


We Fell

by roseforthethorns, what_a_dork_fish



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angel Q, Fluff and Angst, James is a big softy really, Kittens, M/M, Q is ooc, RPF, Relationship Development, Slow Burn, Unvoiced Feelings, plenty of sinning at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An RP about Q, the angel tasked with guarding MI6, and Bond, the spy who loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Met

**Author's Note:**

> So this got out of hand.
> 
> I'm sorry Q is so out of character, I was projecting more heavily the further we got. Thank you C for my first RP!
> 
> -You're more than welcome, E. I worry my Bond slips in and out of character in later (coming) chapters. I do my best to keep him flirtatious and aloof.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q the "Fallen" angel is the new Quartermaster at MI6. He's only heard warnings and rumors about James Bond, resident flirt and walking ball of Lust.

James swipes another glass of champagne from the server as he surveys the room and tries to figure out how to get out of the function as quickly as possible. He's always on display at these things, one of the famous double-oh agents expected to shmooze with the PM and his constituents. Bloody boring.

His eyes fall on a young man waiting for a slice of cake, and Bond lets his eyes travel slowly down and back up again. The man looks quite stunning in his tux, eyes hidden behind glasses and hair looking absolutely fluffy and soft, a lovely mop of dark brown hair. There's a small feather pinned to his badge, the symbol James knows stands for angel.

An angel here? At an MI6 event? He had no idea Mallory had found them one.

Q is bored and uncomfortable, and not very hungry, but everyone else is eating, so he goes along with it. This is not what he had in mind when he'd been told by his superiors that he would be taking the place of the angel named Boothroyd who had been recalled suddenly. Something about human life expectancy and fresh blood.

So former technological-Muse Q is now a Guardian, eating stale cake with too-thick icing and looking around trying not to seem nervous.

The nervousness cranks up a few notches when he realizes someone is approaching him, from behind; a quick scan of their aura reveals them to be that 00-agent who's been brought in to look intimidating. Q hasn't learned the names yet, though he supposes he'll have to eventually. For now, he stoically eats his cake and pretends he doesn't notice the human sneaking up on him.

James clears his throat softly when he reaches the angel, giving him his best 007 smile, one that has charmed the pants off of people on almost every continent.

"The name's Bond. James Bond," he says with a flourish, sweeping Q's hand up to kiss the back of it. "And who might you be?"

Q resists the urge to recoil, instead simply pulling his hand free and saying dryly, "Your new Quartermaster, apparently." He can feel the auras of everyone who hears; it's not common knowledge, though everyone must have heard the rumor (started with a Whisper in the right ears) that the Quartermaster is a Fallen angel.

"Old Boothroyd finally copped it, eh? Well I suppose I'll have to find reasons to frequent Q-Branch a bit more often if you're there."

"Please don't. I've heard about your frankly ridiculous statistics when it comes to destroyed tech, 007. We'll see each other more than often enough."

"I'm wounded, Q. To think you have such a poor opinion of me already."

Damn him. He's unflappable and that annoys Q. "Rather, I have a high opinion of those who treat Q-branch with respect. If you'll excuse me."

Q turns and walks away, calmly and with absolutely nothing in his demeanor to show that he's running away. This is _not_ how he was supposed to meet the most famous double-0. He'd had it all planned out. But, he sighed to himself as he located a rubbish bin for the rest of his cake, plans like that rarely worked out.

James shakes his head and follows Q. "I hadn't finished yet. A new Quartermaster and an angel to boot? Forgive me but I'm curious."

"I'm not an angel," Q replies in a clipped tone. "Not anymore. And that is all I have to say on the matter."

James's eyes widen slightly. "You're a _Fallen_?!"

"Yes." It's a blatant lie, but it's excused because he was told to say it, and obeying orders leaves no marks on his soul or conscience. He refuses to make up any lies about how he Fell, because he's not sure he would be believed; but he's perfected the art of the closed, cold mask that shows nothing but a steely resolve not to talk. He turns this look on Bond for a total of five seconds, then, when he's sure Bond has no snippy answer, he again attempts a dodge, heading this time for the door to the men's room.

It takes everything he has not to follow. Q clearly doesn't want to talk, and Bond won't force his way into the other man's space. Yet. He has plenty of time to frequent Q branch and talk to him there. And Q will undoubtedly be his handler as well.

Q is glad to see that the men's room is empty. He hides in the stall at the far end, leaning his forehead against the cool metal door and closing his eyes. Bond makes him nervous. It's his aura; so confident, so cocky, so sure that he'll get what he wants. But also so sad. So indescribably sad. Q feels like he'd either drown in that sadness himself or grow numb to it. Either is a horrible thought.

Has Bond gone numb?

The PM is going to be giving a speech. Q needs to be there for it. He straightens his jacket and tie and leaves the restroom.

James is on his fourth champagne when he sees Q emerge. He keeps his distance this time, trying to also stay out of Mallory's eye as well. The last thing he needs is to be dragged into the spotlight as a shining example of the double-oh program. If one can call a PTSD ridden alcoholic with severely suppressed emotions a success.

Sensing an aura is not difficult. Picking out individual auras in a huge crowd isn't that hard once you've practiced enough. Q picks out several people that he knows as allies, more that he knows are enemies, and one or two fence-sitters. There is also Bond's aura following him, radiating curiosity and caution. Q's eyebrows twitch as he ruminates on this; the people in front of him, a man and two women, suddenly move out of his way. He blinks, and sees that they're eyeing him with just a little bit of fear...

Ah. So they're part of the faction who insist that he must be a murderer. He smiles politely at them (which just seems to scare them further) and makes his way to his special designated seat. He hopes Bond is sitting very far away.

The PM signals that everyone should sit and prepare for the presentations, and oh delight of all, James gets to sit next to the new Quartermaster. He does his best not to smirk too much as he takes his seat, unbuttoning his jacket as he does.

"What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" he murmurs with a smile.

Q resists the urge to put his head in his hands and groan. Instead he gives his emptiest, politest smile and says quietly, "You have no idea if I'm nice or not." Perhaps that's the wrong thing to say, because Bond's eyes are lighting up and his smile is curling further, and Q looks away with all the dignity of his ninety-seven years.

"Not a nice boy? My day just got far more interesting. The innocence is an act, then? From what I understand you have to do something truly horrible in order to Fall."

"It's none of your business," Q answers, cold and lazy, like he doesn't give a toss. "I want to hear this. Please **be quiet**." And with a tiny hint of Whisper in his voice, he adds Authority. The murmurs around them halt; listening in, ey? At least Bond seems to have stopped.

James finds himself unable to speak despite all the questions bubbling in his mind. He looks curiously at Q, noting the stubborn set of his shoulders and his pointed look at the presenter. So James sits back with an amused smirk and alternates watching the speaker and watching Q until he's allowed to speak again.

Q is legitimately interested in what the current speaker has to say. It's his first day, after all, and he needs to know everything if he is to protect these people. Soon he forgets the spell he'd placed, and it fades, leaving everyone affected free to speak. Q tunes them out. The speaker is talking about the double-0 program now, and this, Q _needs_ to hear, even if he knows for a fact that some of the information is outdated and most is flat-out wrong. He needs to know what people _think_ the program is. He doesn't even notice that he's wearing his most disapproving scowl.

"You know," James murmurs, leaning closer to Q, "I could tell you all this information and make it way more fun."

"Hm," Q answers absently.

"I said I could tell you all this in a more fun way so you don't have to listen to stuffy speeches."

"I'm sure," Q replies without thinking, "But can you--”

"--like to introduce our new Quartermaster."

Q freezes and turns white as a sheet.

James sees Q freeze and doesn't even think.

"He's quite flattered by the attention, but I think he would like to get back to work."

Now the color rushes back to Q's cheeks, and he stands. "No, I just wasn't expecting the honor," he explains smoothly, stepping on Bond's foot heavily. He can feel himself blushing, though, and fights the urge to fidget. Is he an angel or isn't he?

Apparently this is the right answer, as the speaker chuckles (Q can't help bristling slightly) and says indulgently, "I do apologise for not warning you earlier. Come forward, my boy."

Q grits his teeth and is sure his tension is visible in his jaw, but he steps forward calmly and manages to face what feels like a thousand eyes.

He should've taken the opening Bond had offered.

James is beside himself fighting the urge to laugh. He knows he shouldn't, and he won't embarrass Q by actually doing it, but it's a near thing.

Instead, he drains his champagne glass and signals to the waiter to bring him another one while turning to watch Q intently. The angel wants to insist on speaking? Well Bond will hang off his every word.

Maybe he'll learn from this that James's ideas usually spare most people from terminal embarrassment.

Q is proud that he doesn't stammer or make a fool of himself, as he often did in classes as a young soul before receiving his wings, but he also can't remember half of what he said. He's pretty sure he thanked someone for hiring him and letting him attend, and he made a pointed remark, directed at the few field agents and one double-0, to remember to care for their equipment or suffer the consequences. He thinks he mentioned living up to Boothroyd's reputation. He doesn't clarify which reputation.

But finally he's said as much as he's willing, and with a final nod, returns to his seat. He ignores the way people are careful to scoot subtly away from him. He's fine with that. He sips his water and waits patiently for the next speaker.

"Very smooth. I don't think anyone saw your knees knock together there at the start," Bond whispers before trying to hand him a glass of Champagne.

Q murmurs a polite refusal to the champagne--angels don't drink--and levels a cool glare at Bond. "They did not," he replies sternly. "Have you reported to Medical to check your eyesight? You aren't getting any younger, after all." He wants Bond to be angry. He wants Bond to hate him. He wants Bond to stop _looking_ at him like that.

"Well, more for me." He sips the drink again. "My eyesight is perfectly fine. I can describe the way your arse looks in those trousers in perfect detail."

Q considers spluttering, but that would be undignified. So, since he's stumped for a scathing reply, he says nothing, only drinks his water and is glad that everyone's auras show they haven't heard.

"You know, Q, you don't have to keep ignoring me. You could talk to me."

"I am not ignoring you, I simply have nothing to say. Chatter away if you must."

"I highly doubt you have nothing to say. Someone clever as you would have quite a few things to say. I'm surprised you haven't tried to rip me a new one for impertinence."

Q sighs. "I am _trying_ to set a good example." He's trying to make a good impression on those he hasn't met, not because he's a brown-nose, but because it's just easier that way. If everyone respects everyone else, all will run smoothly.

Although it appears Bond is _inviting_ Q to be unprofessional and disrespectful. Well. He'll take him up on that offer... but not here, and not now.

"Well, I think this party is getting rather dull. So if you want something more fun, meet me out front in five."

With that, James actually stands, buttons his jacket, and walks out of the party in front of everyone.

Q actually holds out for ten minutes before he gets tired of different officials saying the same thing over and over again. He finishes his water, and with a brush of two fingers against the feather on his badge, he murmurs the Don't Look spell. Eyes slide off him, minds forget he's there. Quietly, he stands; carefully, he trots to the door. Only when he has slipped past the guards and is out of the building does he dismiss the spell, letting out a long breath. He hates doing magic, he really does.

"Took you long enough. Thought you were going to chicken out."

James is leaning against the building, tie undone, and smoking a cigarette. He glances over with a wicked grin at Q before stamping out the burning tobacco beneath his heel.

Q glares. "I just wanted some air," he retorts, but it's a weak excuse and he knows it. So he sighs and mutters, "If I have to hear one more person extol the virtues of Earth over Heaven and England over Earth I will curse all of them."

"So the Fallen do retain some of their powers?"

Q swears like a sailor inside his head. "Only the weaker ones," he grumbles, telling himself that he is _not_ lying, he is simply protecting himself and therefore his superiors. "Curses are easy. A little bit of healing. The Don't Look spell. That's all, though. Nothing big like blessings or absolving." He takes a breath and looks Bond dead in the eyes. "I'm assuming you have some form of entertainment in mind more interesting than the unbelievably dull vice of smoking."

"Put this on," Bond says with a smirk, handing Q a motorcycle helmet. And oh, it is worth it to see the shock and incredulity on the angel's face.

"I don't ride motorbikes," Q informs him stiffly. In fact, he's afraid of them. But he's afraid of all human transport except trains. "I never learned."

"Lucky for you I know how." Bond puts on his own helmet (more to put Q at ease, he never wears one usually) and swings his leg over the bike.

"Well come on then. Or are you going back in there?"

Q glances around, but no one is there to see. So he sighs and follows Bond's example, strapping on the helmet and carefully mounting the bike. He has to hold on to Bond of course, so he gingerly fists his hands in Bond's jacket on either side of his waist and hopes that's good enough.

"Hold on tight," Bond purrs before starting up the bike. He loves this one, revving the engine before peeling away from the curb.

He feels Q hold tighter and grins, buzzing down the street and past Parliament, over the Thames and then down along the river to see the London Eye, Tate Modern, past the Globe, down to the Tower bridge, back over the Thames and towards the heart of the city.

The world is zooming by very quickly and it's leaving him dizzy and frightened. Every time they stop at a traffic light, he tries to loosen his grip; every time the bike jumps forward, he pulls a little closer than before. He recognizes landmarks, makes sure to fix them on the mental map constantly building in his head, and eventually he manages to find the courage to look ahead while they're moving, over Bond's shoulder. They don't seem to be going that fast when he looks fixedly ahead, and he can see when corners and traffic lights are coming up. So he swallows hard, clings harder, and pulls his head down until he can only just see over Bond's shoulder. That seems to help the dizziness.

Bond zooms through Piccadilly and pulls into a side street, turning off the bike and helping Q hop off. "Come on. Best Peking Duck in London right here."

Without the firm sureness of Bond's torso centering him, Q feels distinctly wobbly; but the offer of food perks him up considerably. He hadn't even noticed he was hungry.

"Are you sure it's the best in London?" he asks as he takes off his helmet and begins trying to comb down his hair with his fingers. "Because there's a little place just down the block from my flat..."

"Oh I'm sure that place is adequate, but this has the freshest, most tender duck." He leads the way into the restaurant, the server seating them instantly in Bond's favorite booth.

"The usual, sir?"

"Absolutely. Beer for me and water for my friend."

Q raises an eyebrow as the server gives an affirmative and leaves. "Friend?" he asks dryly.

"It sounds better than colleague. Or superior."

"Hm. That it does." Q looks around with interest, still trying to smooth down his hair.

"Leave it. It looks good." James sips his beer and sighs, regarding the angel. "So. What's your story then?"

"Sorry?" Q asks blankly.

"Your story. Your history. Where you came from, how you Fell."

"I... would rather not discuss it. It's not important," he dismissed.

"Oh I beg to differ. You'll know my full story soon enough but I would learn yours if I'm allowed."

Q sighs and looks down, pleating his napkin. "They found me by the river," he begins in a low voice. This is true. "I don't remember how I got there. I just knew that I had to go see Major Boothroyd before he died." Also true. "We... talked. Confidentially. Then he called in M and named me successor. And that's all I'm allowed to say." All true. He raises his eyes and meets Bond's calmly.

"Allowed to say? Well they keep you under wraps, don't they." He takes another sip and regards Q carefully. "A fallen angel as my new Quartermaster and handler. Do you already have plans for overhauling the department?"

Q snorts. "Yes. It's a disgrace. I have no idea how they managed. _Everyone_ lacks training, there's almost _no_ interdepartmental communication, there's an ongoing rivalry with Medical for funding, someone let a virus loose in the mainframe--thank god we caught it before we were too badly compromised--and _no one_ knows how to properly update a firewall. Also there's at least one fire in the R &D labs _every day_. That's all going to change." Q feels a rush of adrenaline, a feeling that leaves him bright-eyed and ready to dive into the guts of Q-branch and turn it inside out just to see what it's made of so he can fix the damn thing.

And he _is_ going to fix it. And then nothing and no one will threaten MI6 again.

After a deep breath, he asks civilly, “And you?”

His passion is palpable. It radiates out from him and, when James thinks about it later, he pinpoints that moment as when he first started to feel for the Quartermaster.

"If anyone can fix it, I have a feeling you can. It's about time Q-branch comes into the twenty first century. And me what? Do I have plans to fix the department? No, no I don't. Do they keep me under wraps? Well, they try."

Q refuses to blush at Bond's warm tone. "I rather doubted that you'd have any interest in reconfiguration. I meant keeping under wraps, and I think your answer has--Oh, thank you," he says as the food arrives.

"I am the bane of Mallory's existence on a weekly basis." He cuts up some of the duck, fashioning little bundles in sauce and the pancakes they've also been brought. "Eat up."

"I heard," Q murmurs. "There's plenty of very accurate gossip to be had in Q-branch." He takes a small bite, and his face lights up. "Oh, this is excellent!"

James memorizes every tiny detail in Q's smile before taking his own bite. "Told you. It's the best in the city." The next few minutes are just them eating, James easily devouring half the duck without trying.

"So. Q-Branch has gossip. I would love to know the rumors about me. Please?"

Q sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I see the ones about your vanity are well founded. There are tales of your prowess, usually in the field... two engineers claim to personally know people you've slept with, though they won't name names... at least seven boffins claim to have seen you kill a perfectly good laptop just by looking at it... oh, and there's a rumor that Ms. Marsh is the only one besides the Major who can get you to listen to reason on missions."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they do know people I've slept with. The list is rather extensive. It takes slightly more than a glare for me to kill a computer. They seem to forget I have, on occasion, hacked my way into secure networks. And Danielle's a good woman. She'd have my balls if I disrespected her."

"I will inform the little ones. You're still a dangerous man." Q scoops up his last bite of duck and only then realizes all the ways that could be interpreted, from an honest observation to a vague flirtation.

"I'm an incredibly bad man. An incorrigible scoundrel, in fact. Care to find out just how bad I am?"

"No." Q carefully set down his fork and looked Bond in the eye. "I'd rather find out if you know the way back to MI6. This has been lovely, but I have setup work to do. Thank you for dinner."

James sighs but pays for the meal and leads Q back to his bike. "I do know the way back, but why does the night have to end so soon?"

"It doesn't, not for you," Q points out, perhaps feeling just a tiny bit guilty. "You—"

"JAMES!" calls a loud female voice, "You came back!"

Bond stiffens ever so slightly before fixing his trademark smirk on his face. "Moneypenny. Shouldn't you be at the big function tonight?"

"I was," answers the woman approaching them, casting a curious eye to Q, who returns the look. He'd noticed her at the function, one of the brighter stars of the gathering. He hadn't been introduced, though.

"James, be a gentleman and introduce us?" Moneypenny asks, smiling at Q, who finds himself smiling back.

"Where are my manners? Q, this is Eve Moneypenny. She shot me once." He winks at her and she smacks his arm. "She's Mallory's assistant. Moneypenny, this is our new Quartermaster. One of the Fallen."

"How do you do, Ms. Moneypenny," Q murmurs, holding out his hand to shake. "You might have to tell me that story next time you're in Q-branch."

"How do you do. I might oblige you sometime. Has James been picking at you about your story already?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you'll have better luck than I have. He's quite reticent when it comes to his past." James winks at Q and fastens his own helmet in place. "Very secretive in fact. He won't even bend to my flirting."

Q and Moneypenny roll their eyes at exactly the same moment, and when Q freezes, embarrassed, Moneypenny laughs.

"It'll have to wait until tomorrow, sadly. I have a date tonight. A pleasure to meet you, Q. And don't make him sick with your wild driving," she warns Bond, teasingly, before striding into the restaurant.

"I like her," Q announces, before he can think about it.

"She's quite something," Bond agrees before climbing onto the bike. "Well? Come on then. Have to get you back before curfew or you might turn into a pumpkin. Not sure my charm works on pumpkins."

"I won't turn into a pumpkin," Q mutters, strapping on his helmet before carefully mounting the bike. He likes that she hadn't made a big deal of his being Fallen. Maybe she's met other Fallen. Maybe she'll introduce him to a few. He wants contact with someone who--

The bike pulls away from the curb and he immediately wraps his arms tightly around Bond.

James takes them straight back to MI6, pulling up by the Q-branch loading bay. "Here we are."

"Thank you," Q says politely, and as gravely as he can with his arms clamped around Bond's waist. He peels himself off Bond and his bike, hands over the helmet and says quickly, before he can think better of it, "I had a lovely time and I greatly appreciate it."

James smiles at him, but it's a little more genuine and less of a leer. "I'm glad, Q." The moment passes and 007 is back. "I'll be by to see how you're settling in soon. Perhaps test out the strength of your countertops."

Q sighs in exaggerated weariness. "I'm sure you'll find one or two interested parties among the little ones. But please save it for lunch break; we have quite a lot of work to do." He's resigned himself already to innuendo and flirtations. He _was_ warned.

"I don't want the others. I want _you_. I thought I made that clear."

Q forgot that he can blush. "It was worth a shot."

"See you tomorrow, Q." He starts the bike back up and motors off

"See you," Q murmurs, and goes back to his new domain.

~~~\0/~~~

Q doesn't necessarily need to eat, but he likes the taste of tea very much, and turkey sandwiches, hold the condiments. He's tired and annoyed and needs some happiness, so he eats his sandwich slowly, savoring every bite, as he checks the servers. He's waiting tensely for something to go wrong, just because he knows it will.

James saunters into Q branch, bold as you please, and walks right up to the Quartermaster's office. He knocks on the door and fixes Q with his best, sexiest grin.

"Good afternoon, Q."

"Good afternoon, 007," Q answers absently, taking another huge bite of sandwich and only barely glancing up before returning to his reconfiguration.

"Goodness. That's a rather large sandwich for such a skinny boffin." He holds up his own lunch and a to-go cup. "I brought you tea. Rumor is you never touch coffee."

"Coffee is for heathens." But the offer of tea raises his head, and he frowns disapprovingly at Bond. "And I am not a boffin," he adds severely.

"Yes you are. You're the head boffin." He sets the mug down and takes a seat opposite Q's desk. "It's meant as a compliment. A testament to your prowess and intelligence."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Q picks up the tea, sniffs it, then takes an experimental sip. His eyes widen. "Tea will though," he adds, and drains half the mug in thirty seconds.

James laughs, grinning broadly at the angel. "Flattery gets me everywhere, Q. But I will remember the tea for future reference."

"Cheeky. What do you want, 007?"

"Always cheeky, Q. And can't an agent find a nice place to have lunch?"

"There are three perfectly serviceable breakrooms and a cafeteria, and I know for a fact," a quick flip through camera feeds on his laptop shows that his hunch is correct, "That the agent breakroom is empty."

"It wouldn't be empty if I were in it."

Q sighs deeply. "I don't have time to argue. Stay if you wish, but I have urgent business and--"

The door is flung open and a distinctly charred-smelling Q-brancher pokes her head in to gasp, "Fire in the R&D department, sir. It's contained, but it won't go out."

Q suppresses a groan as he stands and locks his computers. "I'll be right there."

"Can't I help?" But Q is already gone, following the singed minion down the corridor. James chuckles and leans back in his chair to eat his sandwich and observe the room.

Q's desk is covered in screens that curve around to the wall, all of them showing various bits of data or satellite footage or email. One of them even has Solitaire. James grins and continues looking around, noting the sofa in the corner and the neatly folded clothes by it. So Q slept here last night.

Q himself is trying to be damage control. Not only is the lab on fire, but the explosion that had started it has broken the emergency sprinkler system, meaning water is dribbling uselessly from the sprinklers farthest from the fire. Q grimaces, unpins the feather from his badge, tucks it behind his ear into the arm of his glasses, and murmurs the Shield spell. Now he can walk right through the fire without singeing; and he does so, ignoring the shouts for him to come back, as he searches for any people in need of help. There's no one; they were wise in spotting when a situation had passed their control. Now he walks to where the pipes are busted, and with a flick of his finger, 'heals' the damage. This is why he is a tech-Muse. He can do these things, and he would be able to even if he really were Fallen.

The sprinklers come on, full force, and soon the fires have guttered low enough for extinguishers.

James catches sight of the camera feeds in R and D and watches as Q works, staring wide eyed as he watches the angel walk through the flames and dice the sprinklers.

"Woah... That's impressive."

He knows what he's done is technically very impressive for what he's supposed to be, but Q does not feel impressive, dripping wet and shivering as someone passes towels to those caught by the sprinklers.

"Who's experiment was it?" he asks wearily, ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it before settling the towel around his shoulders. "I'm not angry, we just need to know."

"Um..." An intern steps forward, the front of his shirt burned away and his torso covered in burn cream. "I-it was mine, sir."

"Name?"

"Ben, sir."

"Well, Ben, it appears you need another seminar on safety. It can wait until tomorrow, though. Everyone who was working in here, mop up your stations. I'll alert maintenance that there was a break in the sprinkler system. Let's get back to work."

James sees Q heading back and rummages around in his office until he finds several towels and... Yes! A clean, dry outfit for Q. He sets everything on the man's desk before taking his seat and eating his lunch again as if nothing has happened.

When Q wearily walks through the door of his office, beginning to sniffle faintly (he has a humiliatingly weak immune system), the first things he sees are the towels he brought in preparation of nipping into the locker room showers and his last clean outfit. He doesn't even care that Bond is still munching away in the seat in front of the desk, he heads straight for the desk and drops the now-sopping wet towel on the concrete floor before stripping off his cardigan and shirt and rubbing down with a blessedly dry rectangle of cloth. He hesitates to strip off his trousers, though.

"I'll turn my back," James says, already swiveling in the chair. "You're quite beautiful and as much as I would love to watch you strip, I know you still have your modesty. Me? I'm shameless." He's staring at a cement wall as he talks, listening carefully to Q changing. "I've not had any shame for years and years now. And I look stunning with my clothes off."

"I'm sure your conquests certainly think so," Q replies dryly, rubbing briskly before slipping on his clean clothes. He sighs happily, and gives up trying to settle his hair. "Your shamelessness is also legendary, by the way. You can turn around now."

James swivels back and winks at Q. "Glad to know the good rumors make their way to your ears as well. And they do. Men and women alike. All tanned muscles."

Q eyes him coolly as he sits and picks up what's left of his sandwich. "Why is it always the tan?" he muses, nibbling his lunch. "Back in my day, being pale was considered better. Mostly for women, of course. Men didn't particularly care."

"Back in your day? Were you alive when pale skin was a mark of the aristocracy? Times have changed quite a bit since then. Tanned skin means you spend time outside and you care about the way you look. Well, usually. Often it means you can travel as well or are rich enough you can afford a salon tan. Besides, you haven't seen my muscles. I'm a Grecian sculpture. Just a little more scarred."

"I'm nearly a hundred years old, child. Probably older. I've lost count." He's exaggerating a little, but so is Bond. "Keep your sculptured self covered, though, or I'll call security. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a hacker I have to dissuade."

"Don't mind me. I'm just admiring the view."

Q raises one eyebrow at Bond. "Did I hit a nerve, finally?" he asks innocently, but most of his attention is on the hacker. They're pathetic, whoever they are, but persistent.

"I'm hardly a child, Q," James says quietly. When his voice goes this soft and even, usually people start running.

Q looks up and meets Bond's eyes, his own hard and cold as granite behind his glasses. "Don't you dare take that tone with me, young man," he replies. "I can kill you before you blink. I may be mortal, but I still have tricks of my own."

It's amazing what this does to James. Simultaneously infuriated and aroused, he leaves Q's office with his lunch and heads for the firing range. He needs to let out his aggression somehow, but staying a moment longer in that--that angel's presence will only make him say something he regrets.

He's furious that Q now knows a way to get under his skin. He'll need to toughen up and soon.

Q watches Bond go, and lets out a low, slow breath when the door to his office slams shut. He doesn't want to hurt Bond. He doesn't want to hurt _anyone_. But if Bond had attacked him, physically or verbally, Q isn't sure he'd be able to hold back. He's on edge as it is.

But he feels slightly guilty for making Bond so angry. Slightly.

James slams the door to the firing range and grabs the nearest gun he sees. Checking the clip, he puts on the protective headgear and takes aim at the paper target before emptying the clip right where the target's heart would be.

Only then does he exhale and set the weapon down before looking up at the security camera. "Can you do that, old man?" He says before flipping it the bird and heading for the showers.

Q, having watched from the safety of his office, wonders if Bond had been imagining Q as that target.

"Oh, I think I can do one better," he whispers, caressing his Waccom tablet. Time to start designing.

~~~\0/~~~

"The third passage on your left," Q ordered. "Then the fourth right. You need to go somewhat towards the center of the maze."

"Third left, fourth right. You'd think mazes like this wouldn't exist anymore."

"Well, it seems our villain is a little more old-fashioned than most," Q comments, his mouth twisting with disdain and frustration. He'd figured out the pattern of the maze in moments, looking at the blueprints, but it was the distinct lack of technology in the medieval fortress that stumped him. Bond has done well, though, so there’s no real reason to worry. Or, there shouldn't be.

"Uh, Q? That fourth right has a locked door. It won't budge."

"And it doesn't have an override." Q rubs the bridge of his nose, scowling. "Do you have the electronic lockpick I gave you?"

"It might be in the neck of one of the guards... In my defense, I couldn't reach my knife."

Q scowls harder. "How old is the lock?"

"At least fifty years. A solution would be nice and soon. I can hear them approach." Bond heaves against the door with all his might and just ends up with a bruised shoulder.

Q decides to do something very, very stupid. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he asks, "Do you trust me? At all?"

"Yes." He answers without hesitation.

Something small and warm blossoms in Q's chest. "Alright, good. Take out your earpiece and put it next to the lock. I don't want you to get a ruptured eardrum."

James frowns but does, holding the earwig against the lock on the door, waiting

Q brushes his fingertips against the feather on his badge and whispers the Open spell. He can hear the lock click, and the door swing open on squeaking hinges. "Now go!"

James hears the door squeak, and he quickly puts the earwig back in and runs through, hurrying down the passage. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Q answers innocently, typing quickly. "Nothing you need to share with anyone, at least. Head straight and turn right, then immediately left. We're going to get complicated after this."

"Why, what's coming?"

He follows the instructions to the letter only to scramble back into the tunnel when he almost winds up face to face with several guns.

"Oh, shit," Q hisses. "Back up, go left, left again, and wait. I'll make a distraction."

" _Hurry_ , Q," James hisses as he heads back up the tunnel and presses his back to the wall, gun in hand.

"A moment," Q murmurs, typing in code with a speed that must be horrifying to his little ones. He breathes a sigh of relief as he hears the fire alarm go off. "Now, they'll all be drawn to the exit, leaving the way clear for you to follow. I'll set off a _real_ fire... now." And he taps one last button.

James feels the explosion more than he hears it. He bolts, running for the exit and staying concealed easily in the chaos. He manages to slip out and run right for the extraction sight without a single hiccup, a new record for him.

Q does not sag, but he does sigh when he receives the all-clear. "Excellent work, 007. Proceed as planned."

"Acknowledged, Q. See you soon. 007 out."

Q nods and closes comms. He reaches for his mug, but it's empty. At some point during his walkthrough with Bond, he'd drunk all his tea. He frowns at it. But he can't do the Major Magics anymore, so no Conjuring of tea is allowed.

"Damn," he mutters.

Bond arrives at MI6 several hours later. He bypasses Medical and heads straight for Q-Branch. "Here's my gun, intact you'll see. And I have a present for you."

Q takes the gun and handles it expertly, and when he's satisfied that, yes, everything appears to be in working order, he gives Bond a suspicious look over his glasses. "Present?" he repeats cautiously.

"Yes. First," he hands Q a to go cup with tea, grinning. "But that isn't the present. This is."

He pulls a thumb drive from the inner pocket of his dusty suit jacket and holds it out to the Quartermaster.

Q accepts the tea gravely... and guzzles a third of it before reaching out and plucking the thumb drive carefully from Bond's palm. He plugs it into his burner laptop, opens the files...

He can feel his entire self grow light and bright, as he grins in delight. Brand new code! Half-finished viruses! Scripts and scraps! If it weren't completely unprofessional and weird, he'd throw himself at Bond and hug him.

"This is quite possibly the best gift I have ever received," he says calmly, though he can tell he's still grinning, as he dives right in and starts securing the drive. "Thank you, 007."

James places his hand on Q's shoulder and squeezes lightly. It is worth it for the beaming grin on the angel's face. "You're welcome."

He leaves then, heading for the showers so he can rinse the dirt off and change for the day, secretly hoping Q decides to sneak a peek.

Q resists the urge to rub his shoulder. It's the first time Bond has touched him and it... feels weird. Everything between them has felt weird. After that horrible lunch when he'd made Bond so angry, it's like the agent has been flipping between needling Q for a reaction, and flirting atrociously for no reason. It's disconcerting.

James strips down and steps into the shower, groaning as the hot water soaks into his skin and relaxes sore, bruised muscles. He washes and soaps up, rinsing off and sighing as he finally turns the water off and grabs a towel.

"Sir--are you _sure_ you don't want to watch?"

Q nods, not looking up from a beaut of a program meant to redirect missiles. Who cares about naked bodies when there's computers? He reminds himself to give Bond something fun for his next mission.

"He's so _sexy_!"

"All tan and muscled..."

"A Greek statue, I'm telling you."

Q tunes out the giggles and whispers of the little ones gathered around the screen connected to the locker room camera. He's got work to do.

James begins to dry off, looking up at the cameras and winking. He doesn't even bother wrapping the towel around his waist- just slings it around his shoulders and walks to his locker.

"He WINKED!"

"Sir, sir, you gotta come see, he has a new scar!"

"Mmhm. How interesting," he murmurs, absorbed in his hacking. There's a stubborn bit of code that won't let him in and he won't have it.

Wearing only an undershirt, James decides to give whoever is watching a show. He knows the tech boffins probably are, and he might pick one of them up for a nice, rough fuck in a nearby alley, leave them dripping and screaming for more. But right now, he begins to wiggle his hips and dance, showing off everything from the waist down as he gets his gym sweats out of his locker until he can go back to his office for his spare suit.

Someone actually falls down and starts crying. Q is out of his chair in seconds to soothe her, murmuring kind things as he helps her up. He's pretty sure she's one of the ones who grew attached to Bond, Lord knows why.

His eye falls on the screen, and he blushes fire-engine red, quickly turning back to the crying woman. But it's too late, his glance has been spotted, and with cackles of triumph, the little ones drag him over to watch Bond's little dance.

Bond is now facing the camera and making his cock dance as he sways his hips and thrusts against nothing. He waves at the camera, even though he is dressed in everything except pants and sweatpants.

Q is looking everywhere but at the screen as _all_ the Q-branchers crowd around, some to watch the show, some to watch Q, tight-lipped and red-faced, search desperately for a way out. It's not prudishness, it's the raw lust pouring off the auras of some of the others, and he can't help starting to panic, until finally he wrenches around and shoves through the wall of people and pops free. As soon as he's out, he retreats to his office, and sits with his head in his hands, just remembering to breathe.

James finally pulls his clothes on and jogs back through MI6 to Q branch. He knows they've seen his little show because of all the blushing and giggling around him. He knocks on Q's door, poking his head in.

"Forgot to offer my insincere apology for losing the lock pick. Q, are you all right?"

"Fine, fine," Q answers, not bothering to raise his head, flapping his hand dismissively. "Just a headache. I took some Tylenol, I'll be alright."

"All right... You look a bit pink. Maybe get someone to look at the air circulation down here. Wouldn't do for the whole department to go down from terminal blushing."

He can't help the jab. Serves Q right for the child comment a month before, and the angel is so infuriating. He never relaxes, never takes a break or lets loose. He's a Fallen. He should be looking for every chance he can find to experience life and all humanity has to offer.

Q closes his eyes tightly as his cheeks fill with heat again. He feels miserable. So much potential sin... it's too much. Why did they give _him_ this assignment? Surely they could just have a human agent in place. Why did they give _him_ to MI6, and fucking James-bloody-Bond?

James pauses at the door, frowning. "No, you're not okay. I'll be right back with tea."

"I don't need any--"

But Bond is already gone, and Q is left staring at the doorway, wondering what the hell he's done this time.

James returns moments later with hot tea made just the way Q likes it.

"You have a look in your eyes like someone died. What's wrong?"

Q wants to give a scathing lecture, or even just a bitter retort, but he can't really say anything, staring at the mug in his hands.

"...what do you know about Fallen?" he asks quietly.

"That they've been cast out of Heaven. If you're any indication, they retain minimal use of their angelic powers. They can either been forgiven and redeemed or they can stay human and live out their lives to be judged upon their death."

"Do you know how much it hurts, to Fall?"

"No. I'm afraid I've not had the pleasure."

"They take your wings first." Q reaches back and touches his shoulder blade, staring into his mug. "They rip them off. Then they tear away your essence. Then they trap you, in a mortal body, a _dying_ body. You can feel it approaching. Most angels have lived so long, to us--this is a mayfly's life. Do you know what it takes to be forgiven? Acts of supreme love and loyalty. Absolute obedience. You have to follow every letter of every book, to even _hope_ of being redeemed. There is no leeway. I didn't want to Fall. I want to be forgiven. I want to go _home_."

James feels rather admonished by this. He sits down slowly next to Q's desk and mulls over the new information, suppressing several dozen questions. "How can I help? Help you be forgiven?"

"You can't." Q takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, sitting up and sipping his lukewarm tea. "This is something I have to do on my own. To prove myself. I just want you to know and understand. That's all."

"Surely you can help others to prove yourself. You can't prove supreme love and loyalty all on your own.

"If you can, I've been going about my life all wrong."

"I don't know." Q rubs his arms and shakes his head. "I really don't--"

"Sir? You okay?"

James stiffens and stands, moving away from Q. "All right. I'll see you later, Q."

"Ah--yes. Thank you, 007, for your report." Q nods once, briskly, and turns to the Q-brancher lingering in the doorway. "I'm fine. Why? Has there been another fire?"

"No, just... you looked sad," the young woman--almost a girl--comments uncertainly.

Q finds a smile for her. "I'm fine, Magenta. Thank you. Would you file these for me, please?"

"Of course, sir." She takes the files and scurries back out, past Bond where he leans against the wall and watches the boffins work.

"They're good children," Q murmurs, and he doesn't know whether he's saying it to himself or to Bond.

"The minions?"

"Yes. Although I wouldn't call them that. I'm not a super villain. They're my subordinates, not my 'minions'." Q drinks some more tea and feels calmer. "When can I expect your official report?"

"Sometime in the next week. When I feel like actually doing paperwork. I never feel like doing paperwork."

Q sigh dramatically. "Shall I send 'minions' to hound you night and day until you feel like it?" he asks dryly.

"I would rather you hound me, but I worry if I push more you might combust."

Q frowns at him, then glugs the rest of his tea and sets the mug down on the far edge of the desk in a silent question. He won't push if Bond refuses. It's not his job. But he makes the best tea.

James grins and bows, taking the cup back and making Q another mug of tea.


	2. We Cared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has very fierce emotions and Eve is a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite possibly the fastest-paced story I've ever participated in. Still, it's fun to write!

It's been a bad day.

Q buries his fingers in his hair and leans back in his chair. He's sequestered himself in his office, again, and it hasn't helped. The little ones still haven't learned to make a proper cuppa; maybe he'll have to corner Bond after his next mission and force him to teach them. There's been emergencies, hacks, failed experiments, and, worst of all, budget cuts. And meetings. So many meetings. He's just come back from an evening meeting, and he is so tired.

James knocks at the door, a large tea in hand. "Q? Everything all right? Got back early."

He walks in and sees first the dark circles under Q's eyes. The boffin looks thinner too, and he frowns slightly. Has he eaten recently?

Q feels pathetically grateful, reaching for the cup before even acknowledging that it's Bond bringing it. "Tea," he grunts, making grabby-hands like a child.

James chuckles and hands him the cup. "Need to get you a kettle for your office."

"Probably." Q takes a long drink and sighs. "Lord I'm tired. Alright, where'd you lose your gun this time?" Then he spots Bond's holster, and frowns. "Bond. You still have your gun."

James takes it out and hands it back to the Quartermaster. "Here you go. Intact."

He grins to see Q's confusion. "I don't necessarily have to destroy my equipment. It's just more fun."

"...Well. I guess things _can_ go alright today," Q murmurs, though he's still frowning slightly. But after a quick check, he has to agree; the gun is spotless and fully functioning. He hands it back and leans back in his chair, holding the warm tea close. "Who'd've thought. Have you taught them your tea-making skills yet?"

"They're not responsive to my teachings. They only try to get in my pants and I don't really want them." His unspoken desire for Q remains unsaid in the room. "Besides. I like you needing me."

Q sighs again, this time in disappointment. "I'll have to get stern with them again." He pointedly ignores the unspoken. "And I don't need you. I need that kettle. Give me that and I'll give you something interesting, like an exploding pen."

"How about I take you out for duck and then get you home. You haven't left here in days. Moneypenny told me."

"I need to be here. There's so much to _do_. This overhaul is taking forever, and I need to write a groveling letter to get back our funding, and—oh, you don't care, it's none of your responsibility." Q takes another sip of tea. He needs more caffeine. He _needs_ it. "And I need to 'thank' Ms. Moneypenny for telling you anything."

"If you don't get a break, we'll be down a very capable Quartermaster. You need food and rest, Q. Non-negotiable."

"What are you going to do, drag me by the collar like a puppy?"

"I won't hesitate to carry you out of here, but you'll save your dignity if you walk out side by side."

Q considers this carefully. Then he scowls, stands, and sets down the cup a little harder than strictly necessary. "You're buying dinner."

"Of course I am. I wouldn't dream of making you pay."

Q grumbles, but pulls on his coat and stumps out of his office.

"Where are you going, sir?" Magenta asks, speaking for all the little ones.

"Dinner, apparently," Q grumbles, then plasters on his most reassuring smile. "I'll be back, though."

"He won't be back until tomorrow. Tell R she's in charge." James steers Q to the packing garage and his motorbike. "Helmet, then hop on."

Q balks from the bike. "What happened to your Aston?" he demands. He doesn't like cars, either, but at least he doesn't have to hold on to Bond for dear life.

"It's at home. I came over here on the bike." He straddles the machine and turns it on. "You coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" Q retorts, but it's in a resigned tone. He settles the helmet and climbs on, automatically clinging like a monkey.

"You do. Technically. But I know you want this." He revs the bike and speeds off through London towards their favorite Chinese restaurant.

~~~\0/~~~

Q really, really wishes Bond would slow down.

Technically, he knows they're just going the speed-limit, but it feels like a hundred times that. Several times they only barely shave through a yellow light. Q is feeling distinctly wobbly by the time they reach the restaurant.

James hops down, taking off his helmet and grinning with the adrenaline. "Oh come on Q. Lighten up. They can't punish you for enjoying a bike ride."

Q glares at him, straightens his coat, and sets about trying to fix his hair. He hates helmets, he really does.

James gets them seated and orders again, adding dumplings as an appetizer to go with his beer and Q's water. "So what excitement have I missed at Q branch recently?"

Q hesitates... and then it all comes pouring out.

The explosions in the testing labs. The fistfight over who stole whose lunch. The arguments Q's had with boffins who don't want to learn from someone who looks twenty-five, never mind how old they actually are. The arguments with agents. The disagreements with officials that almost turn into arguments. Everything comes pouring out, and he winds himself tighter and tighter with frustration and distress until he can't even speak. He just eats his dumplings and holds back the angry scream he wants to let loose.

James slowly reaches out to squeeze Q's shoulder. "It's okay. You can let it all out, Q. Better that than holding it in until you burst."

Q takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The urge to scream is lessening. "I hate being angry," he admits quietly. "But sometimes no one will _listen_ unless I get angry."

"You need a way to dissipate the feeling when it gets to be too much. Do you have any emotional outlets? At all?"

"Emotion is disgraceful in an angel," pops out of Q's mouth before he can stop it. It's rote and now he has to explain before Bond gets angry too. "We're taught to see everything calmly, to think rationally. I—I’ve never been good at it. Wrath comes too easily to me."

"Then instead of letting that wrath bottle up, let it out. After dinner, come with me to the firing range. Besides, if you're Fallen won't you have more emotions to deal with? I've seen what happens when rage bottles up. Creates evil villains. I don't want your name to cross my desk."

"You don't have a desk," Q feels compelled to point out. Then he thinks about it, and the thought makes him queasy. "I don't know how to use a gun."

"Now that, I can definitely teach you. You'll be firing into paper targets and won't actually harm anyone. It's a great way to release stress. Either that or I'm setting you loose on the treadmill."

Q nibbles the last dumpling and thinks about it some more. "Alright," he agrees with finality, "I'll—I’ll give it a try. As long as you don't think I'll turn into a super-villain."

"On the contrary." James smiles at the waiter who brings the duck and fashions several little pancakes for Q to eat. "It'll prevent that eventuality and it will give you practice with a tool you'll be designing and improving. It'll be research for you as well."

Research. Q likes research very much. He nods slowly and tucks in. It's just as delicious as it had been the first time.

"God I could eat this every week. Absolutely delicious."

" _Much_ better than the place by my flat," Q agrees. "Although the dumplings don't really match it in deliciousness."

"Dumplings are good for taking the edge off the hunger."

Q sighs and agrees. "So what horrifying adventures have you been having?"

"Nearly getting killed fifty different ways. Same as always."

"Mm."

The dinner passes in... companionable silence. Q can't think of anything else to say, and Bond seems happy to let it rest. It makes Q feel a little better.

"It's nice to see you eat. I worry at how thin you are."

Q bites back the instant retort that it's not like he can starve to death. Because he can. Well, Fallen can.

"You tend to not eat when you work hard. Especially when I'm off on missions. I think you lost half a stone this time."

"Because I can actually get things done when you're on a mission, so I do," Q retorts. "And I would appreciate it if you would stop commenting on my weight. It's no business of yours."

James falls silent, admonished and actually feeling admonished by Q no less. "All right, I'll stop. For now," he concedes, paying for their dinner. "Should I just take you to your flat, Quartermaster?"

Q considers demanding to be taken back to MI6, but thinks better of it. He can't take much more of that chaotic mess tonight. Tomorrow will be better. He has to keep telling himself that; tomorrow will be better.

"Please," he answers Bond's question.

James stands, his careful mask back in place as he leads Q outside, checks his helmet is secure, and drives away from the curb. He knows where Q lives, having hacked into records and finding the address. He pulls up in front of the building and lets Q off. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Q promises quietly, and manages a very small smile. "Thank you for dinner."

Then he turns and goes inside, letting out a sigh as he hears Bond's motorcycle roar away. Time to go fall into bed and not leave until morning.

~~~\0/~~~

James walks into Q-branch the next day with a brand new kettle in one hand (concealed in a bag of course) and a very large, hot cup of tea for Q in the other.

"Ah. 007. I was wondering when you'd be by. Would you like a kitten?"

Bond blinks, sure he heard that wrong. "A what?"

"A kitten." Q turns from the blanket-lined cardboard box and gestures towards it. "There's a tuxedo that you might like. She's quite domineering. One of my neighbors was a hoarder and they found quite a few abandoned kittens. I've taken them all to the vet, don't worry."

James sets the kettle and the tea down before looking in the box. All the kittens see him and begin mewling and pawing up at him, and something in his heart melts.

He reaches in and scoops up the tuxedo cat, stroking her head and scratching behind her ears. "Aren't you a feisty little thing," he rumbles, cradling her in his arms.

Q can't help a smirk as he sips the tea. He knew they'd hit it off. And it's almost funny, seeing the big scary agent soften for a little ball of fluff who meows louder than a creature her size has any right to.

Q doesn't notice when his smirk slips into a soft smile, but his little ones do, and at least three begin to giggle.

James doesn't hear the minions. Instead, he begins scooping all the kittens up until he has all five of them in his arms. The tuxedo he sets on top of his head where she curls up and begins purring. The two orange tabby kittens end up on his shoulders, leaving the grey tabby and the black cat in his arms.

"Q," he whispers. "I'm a cat tree."

Q can't help a chuckle. "Yes. You are. But you can't have them all. I already have three little ones interested." But he's still smiling a little.

"That's all right. They can stay with me right here until the minions come and claim them. I'm warmer than the box anyway."

"They're not minions," Q sighs, then casts around and snags a stool, pulling it up next to the kitten-box. "If you're going to be here all day, at least sit. Is that my kettle?"

"It is. There's a box of your favorite tea in there too. The tea in the cup is hot right now, too."

"Thank you," Q murmurs, and sips the tea. Another giggle reaches his ears, and he flushes. With his attention brought away from the unexpectedly soft flush of Bond's aura, he can tell how amused the others are, and how suspicions are already forming.

"Hey there little ones. You just want good homes don't you. Yes you do," James coos with a smile.

Q has to turn away and hide his grin behind his tea. Bond looks ridiculous, balancing five kittens so carefully and actually _cooing_ at them. Not even James Bond is immune to the cuteness of kittens, it seems. Q will have to remember that.

James hasn't felt this relaxed or happy in a very, very long time. The kittens trust him implicitly and he wants to protect them. To keep them safe. He knows they have homes they will go to, but he doesn't want to give them up.

His lifestyle doesn't lend itself well to pets, but if he kept one, maybe Q will look after her when he's on missions.

Q accepts Bond the Kitten Tree into the landscape of Q-branch far too quickly. He moves around him easily, sometimes reaching out and stroking one of the little balls of fluff. They're barely past weaning; they totter on Bond's broad shoulders and in his cupped arms, escaping to Q's desk to bat at his mug and the box they once lived in.

"Do you have any milk or food for them? I think they're as hungry as they are inquisitive."

"As a matter of fact..." Q heads to his office, quickly locating the bags full of supplies he'd bought as soon as he'd realized he was a cat-parent now. Bringing out a bowl and two cans of wet food, he brings them to his desk in the main area and empties the food into the bowl, setting the dish in the box and carefully replacing the kittens around it. They immediately fall on the food, and Q smiles before returning to work.

James watches them all closely, keeping them safe and making sure they all get to eat. He smiles as he pets them and trades grins with Q when the Quartermaster passes by the table.

Q decides this was an excellent idea.

It keeps everyone quiet and working hard, to have the favorite 00-agent around, and it keeps that agent quiet and calm to have something small and soft to care for. Q actually manages to get things done today. This makes him more cheerful, and he shares a smile with Bond as he passes. Today is a good day, and all it took was a litter of kittens.

The end of the day comes too quickly, with three of the kittens going home with minions, the tuxedo staying with him, and Q taking the grey tabby.

"Would you be willing to cat sit? When I'm on missions?"

Q smiles at Bond. "Yes. But you have to let me name her."

“That sounds like a dangerous bargain, but alright.”

Q looks thoughtful for a moment, then grins. "How about Elizabeth?"

"I like that name. I think it suits her.”

Q cuddles his little grey and hums. "You, however, will have a secret name. I shall call you Secret in public, but you'll have a name for when we are alone." Then he realizes that he's still standing beside Bond in the middle of an empty branch, and blushes faintly. "Well, good night, 007," he says, and heads to the door, fast.

James can barely hide his grin. "Q? Thank you. For the kitten. And today."

Q turns halfway to look at him before he leaves, and hesitates. His aura...

"Ah... you're welcome," he says awkwardly, and hurries away.

James bundles the kitten underneath his coat so she can cuddle against him for warmth before leaving. Time to hit the pet store.

~~~\0/~~~

Q is excited for his kitten. He calls a cab to get home, Secret bundled in the blankets in his box.

"A new pet?" the driver asks suspiciously.

"A kitten," Q answers proudly, smiling down at the sleepy grey baby. He's been smiling more today than ever before. He blames Bond.

James goes a little nuts at the store, buying everything he can from a collar to a bed to toys and bowls. When the shop keeper asks how old the kitten is, he brings Elizabeth out.

He ends up leaving with everything he can carry and then some, Elizabeth safe in a crate until he gets back to his flat and sets everything up for her from food bowls to litter box.

Q spends about an hour cleaning the flat before letting Secret out to explore the living room. He smiles at the kitten's wanderings and wonderings; he's not an animal-guardian, but he can still get a rudimentary feel for the baby's emotions, and the biggest is wonder at this strange clean place. Q lies down on his belly on the floor, and Secret crawls up on his head, makes a nest in Q's hair, and falls asleep, purring his tiny baby purr.

James finally manages to get Elizabeth to calm down. She curls up on the pillow next to him as he sleeps. She's still sleeping soundly when he wakes the next morning.

The greetings Q receives are all variations of "Why did you bring your cat to work?"

"Because he was crying," Q answers, checking the crate again. Secret is fast asleep, though, burrowed in his blankets. "I can't leave him when he's crying."

He gets many sympathetic and calculating looks, but he ignores them, and settles the crate beside him on the desk in the main branch. He will keep his kitty with him until he's sure Secret can be left alone.

James comes strolling back into Q-Branch with Elizabeth on a little cat leash. She's safely curled up against his chest and he's carrying a whole bag of her things with him as well.

"I thought they could have a play date," he says to Q when he reaches the boffin's office.

Q wants to laugh, but settles for a grin and picks up Secret from batting at his computer mouse to set him gently on the blanket Q had spread on the floor to keep Secret's tiny paws safe. "Well, set her down and we'll see."

James closes the office door and undoes the leash, setting Elizabeth down with Secret. "I had no idea there were so many toys and things for cats."

"Pet parents like to spoil their fur-babies." At Bond's raised eyebrow, Q defends himself, "I've been reading a lot of forums."

"Well Elizabeth is definitely spoiled already. I went a little overboard."

"I can see that," Q comments, eyeing the bag resting on the floor. "How much did you _spend_ on her?"

"Maybe several hundred pounds... The rest of it is back at my flat."

"Secret is jealous," Q chuckles, as the kittens begin to wrestle.

"I could spoil him too. If you want. I have plenty and I never use it except on Scotch."

Q looks up in surprise. Bond's aura is all soft again, like it was when he was playing kitten-tree; and his expression, as he gazes down at the small mammals, is just as warm and soft.

Q wants suddenly to reach out and touch his face. But he can't, so he doesn't.

"Q? Where'd you go? Your eyes went all unfocused."

"Oh." Q gives a mental shake and takes a breath, reaching out to the kittens instead. Secret disentangles from Elizabeth and wobbles over to bite Q's fingertips. "It was nothing. Don't you have tests to pass?"

"I was asking if you want me to treat Secret to some toys and things."

"No, no, that's quite alright. I'll build him some toys when he's older. Right now I think we'll make do with what I've bought already."

"All right." Bond crouches down to pet Elizabeth one more time. "I have paperwork to do... I'll be back later."

Bond, doing paperwork? Amazing. Q nods and carefully settles the fighting kittens in the box he'd kept, so they can play without fear of being lost or hurt. Of course, it's possible they can simply climb out... but he'll catch them if they do.

He looks up to say goodbye, but Bond is already leaving, and his aura is losing its warmth.

He hates to see Q so cold and distant towards him, but there's nothing he can do about it. He should just get through the day quickly so he can go home... And do what? Drink? Dream about a man who can't love him back?

Q wonders if a prayer for help is in order. He's gone from disliking Bond to wanting him to be happy... and he doesn't know how to help.

The damn day drags on and on, and finally James returns to Q branch to pick up Elizabeth. "How was she?"

"Perfect angel." Q smiles up at him (he's sitting on the floor now) because Secret and Elizabeth are climbing up his jumper, Secret in the front, Elizabeth in the back. "Rescue me please, I'm under siege."

James laughs, grinning and obliging Q by scooping up his kitten and cradling her against his chest. "So. Aside from the joint attack it was fine?"

"They didn't even leave the box." Q unhooks Secret tenderly and kisses him between his downy ears. "Well, this little fool tipped it over, but the blanket felt out and trapped them, so I was able to rescue them both. I think they enjoyed each other's company."

"Good. At least Elizabeth has a nice place to come for play dates and things. Thank you, Q. I mean it."

"Any time," Q replies, with another, quicker smile. He's realized that smiles make Bond's aura pulse brighter, and that is good.

"You ought to smile more. It's a good look on you. Lights you up." James gives him a final smile and heads home for the evening with his kitten.

Q blushes and cuddles Secret closer, confused. Usually flirtations from Bond are accompanied by Lust—but not this time. For some reason, this time he'd sounded sincere and his aura had been pink. What a strange day this has been.

The next few months are a blur of missions and cat sitting and frequent trips down to Q-branch. Bond even has a little desk of his own down there for paperwork when he's home. He still brings Q large cups of tea whenever he visits, beaming as the boffin gulps them down.

Q has heard his little ones whispering, usually in annoyance, that they should just shag and get it over with; they always shut up when he glares at them, though. And then Bond brings him things like tea and toys for Secret and finished paperwork and Q finds himself smiling again.

"At _least_ kiss him," Eve complains one day on an "official visit" (really they're sharing Q's lunch and gossiping). "He's pining, everyone can see. And it's obvious _you're_ gone on him too."

"I am not!" Q splutters.

Eve rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her coffee.

“You are though. And have you looked at the way he stares or smiles? Q, he hasn't looked like that at anyone since She-who-must-not-be-named. He's head over heels in love with you and pining for you. He doesn't bring me gifts the way he does for you and Secret. And he doesn't spend all his free time with the other agents the way he spends it here."

"I—I noticed all that, yes," Q admits stiffly. His face and neck feel hot with embarrassment. "But it's not like—he'll get over it, eventually. He'll have to. It's a bad idea, him and I."

"Why?"

Q takes a breath, but his voice doesn't want to say it. It's like a hand of iron is around his throat. "It just... wouldn't work out," he hears himself say weakly.

Eve takes his hand, squeezing gently. "Sweetie, why are you stopping yourself from finding love? He's actually getting better with you here. He loves you, and he brings his equipment back more, and when was the last time he got shot on a mission, hmmm?"

'Because I'm an angel. Because I'm an angel. Because I'm an angel.’ It repeats in his head, over and over, like a broken record.

"Q, you look like you might burst into tears. What can I do? You can tell me. I'll be the soul of discretion."

Q stares at his hands, one still clutching Eve's. "Promise it never leaves this room," he whispers.

"I'll take it to my grave."

"I..." He gulps, takes a breath, lets it out in a rush: "I'm not Fallen, I'm still an angel, they might hurt him, that's why we can't."

Eve's eyes widen, and then she pulls Q into a hug, holding him tightly. "Let it out, Q. I've got you sweetheart."

Later, Q will absolutely deny that he had cried. He will also swear he didn't babble out the whole story, about being chosen to replace Boothroyd, about starting to care, about loving riding Bond's motorcycle, about enjoying shooting lessons and Chinese for dinner, about how much he looks forward to kitty playdates, about how scared he is that his superiors will take issue with their being so close—he will deny all of this, because he'll be ashamed.

But in this moment, defenses already weak, he hugs back and cries and talks until he's hoarse.

Eve just holds him. She rocks a little, rubs his back, pets his hair, and listens. She doesn't interrupt or try and fix things. She just listens to him speak until he's hoarse.

When Q has nothing left to say, she helps him drink some water and hugs him again. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing," Q answers miserably. "I don't _know_. At this point I just... want it to stop. I just want him to move on, so I can too. But that's not going to happen soon enough. It's going to be a year in a few months' time, and I'll have to report back to my superiors. I can't tell them I'm in—that a human cares for me. They'll want to know who, and why, and when. They'll want to erase his memories of me and replace them with ones of hostility. How do I make him hate me when all I want is for him to be happy?"

Eve's heart aches for him. "Why do you have to report that? He's happy and effective and you're doing your job well. Do they have to know how?"

"I have to tell them everything. If I hold back, they'll punish whoever they think is closest to me—and that's either you or him. I can't have either of you hurt."

"Oh Q... Why? Why would they punish? That doesn't sound like heaven to me."

Q stares at her, surprised. "But... but I'm supposed to be a guardian now," he stutters. "It was different when I was just a muse. I'm a guardian, I have to prove my loyalty, and that includes not lying."

"But punishing you? Punishing people who have come to care about you? Hurting them and turning them hostile? How does that help anyone?"

"It's to keep us in line. There was—there was a guardian—he deliberately sinned, and then started convincing other guardians to as well. He said Falling didn't hurt. It was a kind of rebellion. So they punished them."

"But everything they tell us about heaven is that it's good. That it's rewards and joy and happiness. That sounds horrible. It sounds like you're better off here."

"No, it's not like that for human souls!" Q protests, suddenly feeling a thrill of fear. "Humans, mortals, you'll be rewarded. You'll gain eternal paradise. It's only us angels. Only us _new_ angels," he corrects himself. "The older ones, like Boothroyd, once they've served their time, they get their own paradise. I... I want that, too. So you see, I _have_ to obey."

"Shhhh, it's okay. I hear you, baby. Look, I'm worried. I don't want to see you in pain or hurt. But you can't change the fact that James likes you. Seems to me you can tell them, you can lie to them, you can change his memories yourself, or you could Fall."

A shiver runs through Q. He feels a horrible revulsion to all those things... but surely... surely they'd understand? If he told the truth, if he explained—surely they wouldn't hurt Bond?

But they would. He knows they would. They'd see the danger, remember his past, mark him again and hurt his friends.

So he should lie.

"Why would they hurt you to keep you in line? What have you done to deserve it?"

"I—I disobeyed, once. They marked me. It hurt like fuck, and they said they would do worse if I disobeyed again. I believe them."

"Q... Q that's horrible. And you keep defending them. It sounds like Stockholm Syndrome you do know that don't you?”

"Stockholm...? No, it's not—I just—" Q finally gives up and rests his head on Eve's shoulder. "Should I tell him?" he whispers.

"You should. Better he hears it from you. If he feels even a fraction of what everyone thinks he does, he'll support you and stay with you. He cares. Very, very much. What does it mean you're going to do?"

"I won't lie. I just won't tell them."

"And if they find out?"

"Then..." Q gulps and finishes, voice barely cracking, "I'll Fall. They don't bother, once you Fall. It hurts that much."

Eve frowns again. "You would do that? Fall for James?"

Q blinks. "Oh... I... I guess that is what I'm saying, isn't it?"

"It is. I _knew_ you were in love with him. Okay. Tell me what I need to do to help you get ready for this. What will you have to physically do to Fall? I want to make sure you have everything."

"I... I have to give in to sin. One of the Seven Sins, actually. I'm already Wrathful, and apparently I'm Proud. Gluttony doesn't count in this day and age. I don't think I've ever been Greedy. Sloth, I can't do. I'm not Envious. So that leaves..." Q blushes and looks away.

"The only remaining sin that happens to be your love's weapon of choice." Eve helps dry Q's tears and helps him sit back in his chair. "What questions do you have about sex? James is bloody brilliant but you're... It's safe to say you're a Virgin?"

Q blurts a bitter laugh. "Oh, yes, I'm very much a Virgin. I've read up on the subject, but that doesn't really prepare you, does it?"

"Ask me anything. I'll answer as best I can. Seriously, Q. What do you want to know?"

Q has many questions, but they're all embarrassing. He chooses the first that doesn't sound absolutely humiliating. "How do you tell if someone is a top or a bottom?"

Eve smiles at him and puts the kettle on to boil. "The bottom usually receives while the top gives. For gay sex, sex between men, the bottom is the one who takes the cock and the top gives. Bond is usually a top, so he would be the one inside you."

Q automatically gets up and searches out the box of tea bags. He files Eve's answer away for later contemplation; he's not sure what emotions are arising at that image. "How many ways are there to... to do it?"

"Several. Men who want to have sex might just touch. Or use their mouths. Or to fuck... Well, there isn't a delicate way to say it. His cock would be in your arse. Though I hear it's really pleasant once you get past how strange it feels. Mouth on a cock is oral. A blow job. Just hands is a hand job. Grinding your cocks together is frottage. Like I said, many different ways. You'll use lube to loosen the muscles of your arse to be able to take a cock."

Q is blushing fire engine red and trying desperately to think of another question to rid himself of those images. "Ah, i-is it worth it, d'you think? I know it's—it's supposed to feel good, but—is it worth Falling?"

"I love sex. It feels amazing, Q. It's like... It's like your nerves are on fire but it's nothing but pleasure. And orgasms... Hell if I were an angel, I would Fall for the chance to have decent orgasms."

Q thinks about this quietly as his tea brews. Pleasure... his pleasures are his work, good tea, Secret's softness, and moments with Bond. And that's all mental and emotional. What's physical pleasure like?

And these 'orgasms' he keeps hearing about. Are they really worth it? Everyone else seems to think so. Maybe the consensus is correct, this time?

"Q... Physical pleasure is very intense. It breaks down your barriers and lays you bare before your lover. It's intimate. But it's even better if you love the person. I know James care about you. The fact that he's had to wait and get to know you? If he knows it's your first time he'll be more gentle. He won't be too rough unless that's what you want. I got to have him once. In Shanghai... It was actually some of the best sex my life. And he was a physical wreck back then but don't tell him I said that."

She fixes another mug of tea for herself as she looks at the angel. "An orgasm leaves you feeling out of control but it's like an explosion of pleasure. The closest I've ever come to that not with sex has been with amazing food."

Q nods slowly, gazing into his mug. "Maybe one day," he murmurs. "Not soon. I'll wait, just... just to make sure I'm ready."

"Don't make him wait too much longer. If he thinks you really don't like him... I don't want to see either one of you hurt. Find a time. Tell him. Let him have input."

"I will. Thank you, Eve. Um, one more thing..."

"What is it, sweetie?"

Q is blushing again. "Does size really matter?"

"You're adorable when you blush. If he had a micro penis I would tell you to run. Bond has decent length and excellent girth. You'll be very pleased with him."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Any time, Q. Happy to help."

~~~\0/~~~

"007? I would like a private word."

He keeps Secret cuddled to his chest and his face blank except for polite inquiry.

James closes the office door behind him, setting Elizabeth down so she can explore. She's grown quite a bit over the past few months

"What is it, Q?"

Secret begins to knead Q's arm and purr. Q knows the cat can sense his anxiety. Q walks to his desk and leans back on the edge, keeping his eyes down on Secret.

"I'm not Fallen," he says quietly.

James goes very still and watches Q's face carefully. He's known the Quartermaster for nearly a whole year now. He can see the anxiety and fear there. But James is trying to process what he's said.

"Why did you lie?"

"I didn't, not at first. Everyone just assumed, and I ran with it." Q scratches Secret's neck, under his collar. He still can't look Bond in the eye. "I wasn't going to tell you, but... but Eve and I spoke a while back, and she said I should tell you."

"So your pushing me away... Telling me you weren't interested... It's because you would have Fallen had you succumbed."

Q bites his lip and nods.

"I... I'm sorry I pushed then. I know how much your job means to you, Q."

"No. No, don't apologize." His heart is beating ridiculously fast. "I'm going to report to my superiors tomorrow. If everything goes well... can we stay friends? And if it doesn't..."

"What do you mean if it doesn't go well? What are they going to do to you?"

"I... I want to... if it goes poorly, I'd like... to Fall. For you."

James frowns, feeling like he's struggling to understand even though he knows what Q said. "You would Fall from heaven to be with me? Why?"

"Because I love you, alright?!" Q bursts out—but quietly. "And it's your own fault! So if you don't want me anymore, that's, that's fine, but I think I—" he chokes and looks down again.

James's eyes widen. He takes Q's hand and pulls him close, the young angel standing between his legs and Bond staring into his eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. "Say it again. Why you're going to Fall."

"Because I love you," Q whispers, feeling like he's lost in ice blue eyes that aren't in the least bit icy.

It really is a no-brainer what James does next. He cups Q's face in his hands and kisses the boffin squarely on the mouth. He can feel Q tremble for a moment before starting to relax and kiss back, and then James is in heaven. He must be. Because it's absolutely perfect.

He wraps an arm around Q to pull him closer, the other hand going to touch and tug and stroke the angel's hair.

Q has no idea what's going on but he thinks he knows why, and that's good enough. So he lets Secret jump down from his arms, and wraps said limbs tightly around Bond's—James'—waist. He likes this. He likes the feel of James' mouth against his, the way their bodies fit together, the warmth that's always radiating off James, the fingers through his hair. And he especially likes that it _is_ James.

Bond presses his tongue gently against the seam of Q's lips until the angel opens his mouth, and then the kiss gets _dirty_. James's tongue delves into Q's mouth as he holds the young man tighter, making him moan. Bond can't get enough, needs more. He pulls on Q's hair and drags his nails down the boffin's back.

It's getting hard to breathe. Q can't stop another small moan, follows James' tongue with his own when James retreats, nervously tasting him. He can read James' aura with his eyes closed, it's pulsing so strong; pink and red and pink and red and pink and red, over and over. He digs his fingers into James' back, knees get wobblier by the second.

James breaks the kiss reluctantly, helping support Q with his muscled arms. "Fuck... I would never have known you're a novice at that," he murmured, nuzzling Q's neck. "You're bloody good."

"Um—thank you?" Q pants, unsure all over again now that the kiss is done. Was that... was that Lust? It felt good. It felt like fire, just like Eve had said. And James' breath is so warm on his neck and throat... Q pushes a little closer, hesitantly, and lands the lightest of kisses on James' ear.

The agent groans softly. "That feels good, Q... Before we do anything else, do you have any experience? At all?"

"No," Q answers, eyes downcast. "I'd have to give in to Lust to do that. And that would mean Falling. I... I don't know if I'm ready yet." He looks up finally and asks plaintively, "Can I have another kiss?"

James smiles at him, not his usual seductive smirk but an actual, joyous smile. "Now how can I refuse a request like that?"

He scoops Q into his lap to kiss him again, sparing the lad having to hold himself up on trembling knees.

Q closes his eyes and just gives himself over to the joy of the kiss, pressing closer and hooking his arms around Bond's neck. He doesn't even care if they're walked in on. Well, he does, but only a little bit. Not enough to stop him from slipping from Bond's mouth to his neck, leaving a little trail of kisses, before returning and attempting to kiss Bond senseless.

James loves how curious Q is with kissing. How he's willing to try kissing James's jaw and neck before crushing their lips together. He's a tiny bit clumsy, but James is just happy to finally be kissing this man, this wonderful, stern, brilliant man, that he doesn't care.

He takes control back after a few minutes, kissing with more intensity until Q is whimpering desperately in his arms.

Q squirms, feeling an uncomfortable pressure between his legs, but it's secondary compared to the pleasure of being kissed. Tertiary, even. Because second to their mouths is the hand combing through and tugging at his hair, a novel sensation that he's sure he'll never get tired of.

It's only been several minutes, but it feels like hours.

"There now," James murmurs when he releases Q again to nuzzle him. "And that's just kissing. That wasn't kissing with heavy petting, or kissing you against a wall, or in the snow, or because you're smiling, or any of the thousands of reasons I have wanted to kiss you over this past year."

Q blushes and leans his forehead against James', eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. This is... still very new. If they'd started this earlier, would it still be as electric, as thrilling? Maybe. Probably. Most likely. It makes him smile.

"Well... no matter what happens tomorrow... I want to kiss you again, before I go to report," he replies, a little shyly.

"Just tell me where and when I'll report for duty. Now. Should I wear a suit when I come by tomorrow?" His blue eyes are sparkling wickedly as he regards Q.

Q scowls and kisses his cheek, quick and light. "No, you should come in evening wear," he replies sarcastically. "I don't think it matters. _I_ certainly don't care."

"I want to dress to impress, Q. I think you like my navy suit best."

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you have to wear it."

"And why not? To wish the man I..." He almost says it, bloody wants to say it, but love still has a hook in his memories of _her_ and he swallows the word, "the man I care very deeply for good luck?"

Q sighs and resettles his arms around James' neck. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"You've been all I've thought about for a year, Q. I wanted nothing more than to make you smile."

"Well, you have. Several times." Hundreds of times, actually. Q strokes James's hair, almost says something...

Someone pounds on the door. "SIR! SIR, THERE'S ANOTHER FIRE!"

Q sighs heavily. "And back to work," he says with a wry smile.

"Go. I'll watch the kittens."

"Thank you, again." Q kisses him on the lips; he just can't stop now that he's begun. "For everything."

"I'll be here when you get back. Now go, before the whole department goes up."

Q goes, and follows Magenta at a run through the branch to the source of the botheration.

~~~\0/~~~

James sits in Q's office and focuses on his breathing. He knows what he feels for the man. He knows it more certainly now than he had before. He loves Q. He _loves_ him. And he doesn't know how to even begin saying it.

Q helps put out the fire, then gets waylaid on the way back to his office by a little one who needs help with a particularly stubborn bit of code; then there's an issue down in the garage with the present he's been working on for James; then there's a fight in the breakroom over something neither combatant will admit, that Q has to break up and sort out. It's hours before he gets back to his office. And James is still there.

The agent is lying on the floor half asleep with the cats curled up on his chest when Q returns. "Thought R and D decided to eat you," he teases.

"Other minor disasters needed to be averted," Q explains, moving at once to the kettle. He has to step over James' legs to get there. "Tea?"

"Yes please." Bond cracks one eye open to watch Q put the kettle on and then sit down next to him.

"Have they been behaving?" Q asks, reaching out to stroke Secret's curled spine.

"Like little fuzzy Angels."

Q smiles, and hesitates. Then, with a feeling of great rebelliousness, he lies down on his back next to James. Secret's ears perk up and one green eye opens a slit. Sensing that his human is available for naps too, he stands, stretches, and jumps across the intervening space to land heavily on Q's chest. Q chuckles and pets him as he settles down again for sleep.

James chuckles too, mirroring Q's hand on the cat with his own hand in Q's hair. "You're a lot like a cat yourself."

"I am not," Q protests, but not very vehemently, and he relaxes as fingers run gently through his hair, tickling his scalp.

"You are, pet. You even love being petted."

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Oh really? I would say it does."

He's teasing, of course, and he's rewarded with a little quirking smile at the corner of Q's mouth.

"You're ridiculous," Q murmurs, letting his eyes drift closed. This is a bad idea. What if someone finds them? Oh, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow might be the day he dies; he'll enjoy it while he can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S SINNIN' TIME

James arrives before most of the boffins the next morning. He's pressed and dressed in his best navy pinstripe suit. He knows Q has his interview today... And he meant what he'd said the day before. He wants to support Q and be there for him.

Q is dressed nicely as well, in crisp new clothes that still smell like starch, but he's fairly sure his antiperspirant is breaking down.

"They'll be here at noon," he blurts as soon as he notices James' presence. Then he blinks away the anxiety and adds, "You really should wear that suit more often."

James grins broadly and winks at him. "I knew you'd approve." He pulls Q close and kisses him gently. "Where do you want me to be? What if they attack you?"

"M has allowed me to borrow the main conference room, so I suppose you could stay by the door... And they won't. But if they get angry—promise you'll run. Please." He grips James' lapel and searches his face anxiously. "I don't want you hurt because of me."

"You do realize that if they put you in danger I'll probably go charging in, regardless of what I promise."

Q sighs and rests his head on James' shoulder. "I know."

"It's going to be okay." James wraps his arms around Q, resting one hand in the angel's hair. "I won't leave you." He doesn't add that he has a large flask of whiskey in his jacket next to where his shoulder holster rests... For personal emotional support.

Q hugs him tightly and takes a deep breath of his scent (cologne, alcohol, leftover takeout), trying to hide in his aura. It's yellow and orange, tastes nervous and on-edge. Well, so is Q.

The first of the little ones begin to arrive. Q can hear their furtive movements and soft murmuring. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away.

"Stay here with me until then," he orders impulsively.

James's smile is warm and indulgent before he presses a gentle, chaste kiss to Q's lips. "Yes, sir."

Q spends the day working like a man possessed, which is slightly ironic considering. The little ones take it in stride, though there are whispers about why James is hanging around and Q is so twitchy. Q doesn't listen. He's busy making sure everything is perfect.

"Can you put together these booklets for me?" he asks James distractedly, waving at the printer rattling away. "I need them for the meeting."

Bond nods and begins assembling, finding a rhythm and a calm headspace in the easy folding and stacking. 

"Remember to breathe, Q. It won't do to have you fainting on me."

Q flashes him a smile. "I won't. I might drop something, but I won't faint."

"Well that's a relief. And here I was worrying that I would have to clean Quartermaster off the floor."

Q almost tells him the story of the angel who was smashed under a Conjured boulder, but decides not to. He doesn’t want to scare James.

"All I want to do right now is kiss you until you can't breathe."

Q turns in his chair to stare at James. Then he says, "Well, why don't you, then?"

"Because I didn't want to get told off. Apparently the Quartermaster is very busy and important."

"That he is," Q concedes. "But that doesn't mean--"

"Sir?" Magenta opens the door a wee bit, looking concerned. "Your 12 o'clock is here."

Q swallows hard, but nods and stands, straightening his tie and scooping up the pile of booklets. "Thank you, 'Genta. James?"

Bond stands and follows close behind Q. The man is in full agent mode, observing every exit and person in their vicinity as they walk to the conference room.

Q won't admit it yet, but he feels a hundred times safer with James just a few steps away. It helps calm him down, helps him focus on what he needs to say. Helps him think up lies he can say with a straight face.

When they reach the door to the conference room, Q takes a deep breath, kisses Bond's cheek, and opens the door.

~~~\0/~~~

James stands with his back to the wall and observing the corridor while Q is in the conference room. Every sense is on high alert with his Quartermaster in danger. 

He doesn't know how the meeting will go. He is however tensed and waiting to hear any sound of distress so he has an excuse to charge in and defend him.

Q does not flinch as he closes the door behind himself.

At the long table are ranged seven High Angels. As always, their auras are so bright that they're almost impossible to look at; but look Q does. He can't tell what shapes they're wearing, but he knows they're uniformly the same.

"Q," the Angel at the head of the table greets him softly. "Wonderful to see you again. How is work?"

James frowns and leans a little closer to the door, straining to hear. It doesn't sound quite like English; it doesn't sound actually much like any language he's ever heard before.

Q's Angelical is rusty, but still understandable. He understands his superiors quite well.

They grill him. They grill and pester and extract every detail of the past year, leaving Q trembling and exhausted. They read his booklets and interrogate him about that too. And then they ask about James Bond.

"What is he to you?" Q's head superior asks gently.

"A friend," Q answers firmly. He’s practiced this lie in his head at least a thousand times, and he’s proud that it comes out sounding so much like the truth.

"Why did you kiss him?"

The bottom drops out of Q's stomach. They'd asked in English.

" _ Why did you kiss him? _ "

That James understands. He kicks open the door and strides in, standing next to Q and gripping his shoulder. 

"Because I've fallen... Bugger it. I've fallen in love with him."

_ Vesper, water, drowning, she's drowning, his love-no... Love is curly hair and cardigans and kittens and too much tea and Peking duck. Love is Q _

"I love him and I'm fairly certain he feels the same. And if your rules forbid Angels loving humanity, then fuck the rules.”

Q's knees almost give out. It's a rush of too much emotion, and he stares first at James, then at his superiors. They've all sat up, are taking notice, and the head Angel stands, very slowly, broadcasting their movements.

"Q, is this true?" they ask calmly.

Q swallows hard, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and answers, "It's true. And I love him too."

A murmur, a rustling, as his superiors all lean towards each other and discuss in voices too low to be heard. Q reaches up and clenches his fist on the back of James' jacket. If anything happens, it's going to happen now. And he's ready for anything. Ready to fight or run or—

"Q," the head Angel sighs deeply, "We will forgive the human, Mr. Bond, because he doesn't know any better. But you... you have twelve hours to adjust your memories, or we'll do it for you."

And suddenly, between one blink and the next, they're gone.

Bond stands there stunned for three seconds after they vanish, shocked into stillness by the sudden disappearance. He glances around to make sure the room really is empty before turning to look at Q. There's a cold ache in his stomach. 

"What did they mean, for you to adjust your memories?"

"They meant I need to change my memories of you," Q answers, and has to sit down. Thinking fast, he mutters, "But I don't have to. Twelve hours... I have twelve hours to figure out how to cheat. They won't be watching, won't even be listening..."

"They won't be monitoring you at all?" James starts to smirk as he sits down next to Q. "Cheat how? What can I do? I'm not fucking losing you, not now, damn it."

Q takes a breath, looks James in the eye, and says, "I need to Fall. Preferably before tomorrow morning. What vices do you have on hand?"

"Booze and sex. I could help you kill a man but somehow I don't think you want to do that. Besides, you'll have more fun riding my cock than you would cleaning blood off your hands."

"I've killed before, but never without some distance and justification." Q stand and nods decisively. "Drinking and fornication it is. Let me finish up in Q-branch, and then we can get blind drunk."

James catches Q's hand, pulling him close. "I'm not taking you to bed if you can't even stand up. Besides, I want you to remember your first time... What's your tolerance for alcohol?"

"I drank a bottle of wine once and it didn't do anything, so I suspect rather high."

"We can go back to mine then. I have more than enough alcohol. Let's go back and get the kittens."

Q nods again, and, on a whim, grabs James' ears and kisses him, hard.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"You're welcome... Come on, Q. If you're Falling for me I'm gonna make damn sure you have a good time."

~~~\0/~~~

Q has never drunk this much before, and now he remembers why.

"How're you feeling?"

Q looks up from petting Elizabeth and cooing nonsense at her. "Good," he answers Bond with a brilliant smile. "Elizabeth is a good kitty."

Elizabeth simply lies on her side and suffers his attentions while Secret bats at Q's arm and mewls pathetically.

James chuckles and ruffles Q's hair. "I meant physically. You're a bit red in the face."

Q considers. Well, he doesn't feel like he's going to fall over if he stands too suddenly, and he doesn't have the urge to be sick. He feels a bit warm, but that's really all there is. "I feel fine, actually."

"Seriously? Most humans would kill to have your tolerance." James gently grasps Q's chin and looks him in the eye. "Are you sure? What do you want right now? And how much time do we have left?"

"We have... let's see... eight hours. I think I would like to start now."

Bond snorts, shaking his head fondly at Q. "You're adorable. Now. Is it too embarrassing to ask for what you want?"

Q feels his expression go mulish, then it fades into nervous. But he's excited, too; afraid, but excited.

"No," he answers, half a question.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Bond purrs, moving closer so their knees are touching. "Now. Why don't you tell me what you want."

He's staring into Q's eyes, knowing how dark his own blue eyes will appear to the angel.

"You, mostly," Q answers, trying for flippant. He's not sure he manages. He's staring right back, entranced. "I'd like to kiss you, but I'd also like you to fuck me. Preferably very hard."

James growls, pulling Q into his lap. "I think they can be arranged." He mouths his way down Q's neck first. "Though you haven't really experienced everything my mouth can do yet."

He licks slowly over Q's skin and drags his tongue over the angel's pulse point before pressing his lips to the spot and sucking. Hard.

Q gasps and bites his lip, tilting his head to give James a better angle. His heart feels like it's going to hammer right out of his chest, his hands are clenched on James' sleeve, and it feels like the entire world has narrowed to the mouth and teeth on his neck. His toes actually curl as he lets out the tiniest moan.

"James...  _ James _ ..."

The blond growls again, worrying the skin with his teeth while he continues to suck until he had left a delightful purple bruise on Q's pale skin. 

"I'm going to mark you all over like that," he murmurs in the angel's ear. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeees," Q groans, and tries to kiss him; but it's sloppy and more eager than skilled, and he's instantly horrified that he'd repay James so shoddily. But it's too late, so he runs with it.

James holds Q's head firmly in his hands, taking control of the kiss and deepening it. He licks into Q's mouth and tastes the wine on his tongue and hints of tea and that indescribable taste that's just Q. 

He pulls back so he can leave a mark on the other side of Q's neck while his hands work up underneath his cardigan.

Q's breath is coming sharp. He fumbles the buttons of James' shirt open, whimpers as James leaves his mouth for his neck, gasps as hands the same temperature as lava slide under his cardigan and tease his shirt free. He shoves James' shirt off the other's shoulders, explores taut muscle and pale scars with wondering hands.

Bond stops his assault on Q's neck to help him get the cardigan and shirt off. "You're stunning. All lithe limbs and wiry muscles." He watches the angel's face carefully and smirks. "Liking what you see, eh?"

"Yes," Q answers simply, taking his time as he traces scars with his fingertips, delighting in the faint goosebumps each touch elicits. "You're beautiful."

The smile playing on James's mouth is seductive and fond. "Afterwards you can kiss every inch of me. But I want to make sure you're mine before our time is up."

" _ Every _ inch?" Q asks, voice hoarse for no reason he can think of, except that the image of James letting him kiss everything... it's almost too much. Then the rest of his statement catches up with Q, and he grins back. "Well, hurry up and make sure."

Bond grins and scoops Q up, slinging the man over his shoulder and carrying him to the bedroom.

Q can't help a squeak, and then he laughs and thumps James' back gently with his fists. "Damn it, James, put me down! I can walk on my own!"

"Oh no. I'm carrying you. You're all mine." He hasn't smiled this much in such a long time. James drops Q to the bed, laughing when the angel squeaks as he hits the bed. 

James crawls onto the mattress, kissing down Q's bare chest, flicking his tongue over his nipples before mouthing down to his trousers. "May I?"

Q nods enthusiastically, then, just in case James didn't see, he adds a "Yes, please."

Bond smirks and undoes the button and zip on his trousers before slowly slipping Q's trousers and pants down his legs and off his body. "Oh fuck, absolutely gorgeous head to toe. Look at your cock."

Q is hard just from the kissing and the teasing. His cock is resting against his belly, and James leans down to drag his tongue up the length of it, watching Q's face as he does.

Q has to close his eyes and bite his lip, feeling pulses of heat tingling all through his groin and up into his stomach, and he recalls Eve's words; like his nerves are on fire. And it's so gooood...

"Do you like that?" James's voice is lower, growling in his chest as he looks up at Q. "Fuck you're gorgeous... And I want to try something a little filthy."

"Oh, god, anything," Q gasps out, " _ anything _ ." He's starting to lose coherency, and he doesn't really care.

"Roll over."

James stands long enough to drop his trousers before grabbing lube from the side table. He turns back and grins to see Q on his stomach. Bond kneels between Q's legs and spreads his arse cheeks with a smirk. He nips the angel's bottom before licking down his crack to lap at his hole.

Q had moved almost instantly and now he is so glad he did. He buries his fingers in his hair, presses his face against the sheets, and whimpers. He wants to cry, it feels so strange and good, and yet--it's not  _ enough _ . He feels so greedy but it's not  _ enough _ .

James slowly thrusts his tongue into Q, twisting and licking and adding a single finger after a few moments. He works Q open slowly because he wants to savor it. It's the angel's first time... And of all people, he wants James to be his first.

Q's squirming slightly, can't catch his breath,  _ aches _ for more than just a finger. His cock is throbbing faintly, wants to be touched. He untangles one hand from his hair and reaches down between his legs, since James appears to be intent on something Q doesn't understand.

Bond reaches up and catches the hand, pinning it to the bed as he pulls back and bites Q's arse. "Did I say you could touch yourself?"

"N-no, but—but James—I-I can't just—I want to—to—"

It's hard to talk, to articulate what he's desperate for. He wants...  _ something _ . He just doesn’t have a name for it.

"Oh yes you can. And you will. Now. Hands above your head and hold them there." He adds a second finger into Q and thrusts them both, curling and scissoring them as he goes back to licking and teasing him open. Q wants to Fall? James is going to make it bloody unforgettable.

With great effort, Q gathers the shaky pieces of his will and moves his hand back up, where it automatically latches to his hair. Oh god, oh christ, oh  _ fuck _ that's good. His sense of touch seems to have heightened considerably; he can feel James’ knuckles brushing past, feel the friction of each finger, and then James’ fingertips brush a certain spot and Q lets out a full-throated, very loud moan.

"That's it, let me hear you," James growls before rubbing that spot back and forth, smirking. He can feel Q trembling and there's a certain amount of pride from knowing the angel has never experienced this before. James is the first to give him this pleasure. 

Once Q manages to take three fingers for several torturous minutes, James pulls them out. "Give me a moment," he murmurs, stepping into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out and wash his hands. He comes back a minute later knowing he will taste of mint now when he kisses Q. The angel is still lying on his bed, and Bond just stands there and looks. "Gorgeous," he purrs before rolling Q onto his back and putting a few pillows under his hips.

Q lets James handle him like a ragdoll, because he's shaking and doesn't know if he can move without help. "You're really good at this," he manages to mumble, lifting his head enough to see James' face. He likes what he sees. He's not sure what it is, but he likes it.

"I'm the best at this," he growls before slicking up his cock with lube. "It's going to feel strange at first. But it will feel good. I promise."

He keeps Q's legs spread and pushes the tip of his cock very, very slowly into Q. Bond watches the angel's face for any sign of discomfort or pain, then he keeps moving slowly and sliding completely inside his lover.

James is right. It does feel strange. Q swallows hard and feels another moan well up in his chest. That's nothing compared to the sharp, hot pulses coming from where James is, a little too big, a little too full; but as he gets used to the strangeness of it, the too-bigness feels almost just right.

James is just sitting there, staring at Q. "Aren't you gonna...?" Q asks uncertainly, and moves his hips in a vague motion, shuddering as he feels James' cock move in him.

Bond chuckles and smirks widely at Q. He leans down and captures his lips in a kiss. "Oh yes, I'm gonna. Remember to breathe," he purrs before starting to roll his hips. 

Q is sinfully tight around him and God, he already wants to do this again.

Q wants to freeze, wants to tense up, wants to  _ run _ —but he also wants James to move faster, wants more, wants  _ more _ , damn it. Everything is on fire, especially the places Bond is touching, and he wonders giddily, as James begins to move faster, push just a tiny bit deeper, if this is what Falling is like. If it is, he wants to Fall a million times. With James.  _ Only _ with James.

"Fuck, Q... So fucking tight." James lowers his mouth to his lover's skin to kiss and suck, to leave all kinds of marks on him while he continues to thrust into Q's body. It feels so damn good, better than sex ever has before, and he wonders if it's because of the light in Q's eyes, that look of wonder and knowing. 

James loves giving pleasure in sex, always wants his lovers to thoroughly enjoy themselves. And Q's face is an open book saying  _ yes _ .

Q wants to respond but it appears his vocal cords have been stilled indefinitely. His breath is coming in sharp, panting gasps, and he tries to anticipate the next point where Bond will bite or kiss him, but it's impossible. So he gives himself over to the feelings, to the absolutely delicious sensations, and moves with James instinctively.

He won't last long at this rate. James wants more and now that Q has adjusted and is rocking to meet him, he starts to speed up. 

"Moan for me, baby, come on," he murmurs in Q's ear before biting and tugging the lobe. Bond starts adding more teeth into the kisses and the love bites as he pins Q's wrists to the bed and fucks into him with sharp, precise thrusts.

Q complies, a breathless moan complete with a whimper at the end, fighting James' hands because  _ god _ , he wants to  _ touch _ , wants to bury his fingers in James' hair and land bites of his own, wants to skim his fingertips along the scars crisscrossing James' body--but instead he just groans, because that's all James will let him do, the bastard.

Bond smirks and continues thrusting, speeding up just a little bit more. "Pinning you like this, it heightens the pleasure," he murmurs before sucking on one of Q's nipples and making the angel arch and cry out beneath him. "And you know me, I'm a bit of a controlling bastard."

He bites at the other nipple, tugging with his teeth until Q is gasping for mercy. Only then does he release Q's wrists, hook the angel's ankles up over his shoulders, and slam into his prostate with everything he has.

Q chokes on a yell of surprise and pleasure because oh god oh god oh god please more fuck yes please oh god  _ James _ —

There's a pressure building up in his groin and he's not sure what it means but he wants relief he wants it to pop like a balloon because he knows how good it will feel--and James is still fucking him, still slamming into that single beautiful spot again and again, and Q arches more, moaning full-force now.

"Touch yourself," Bond orders, bending Q nearly in half while still fucking him hard and strong and rough. "Stroke your cock while I fuck you and come with my name on your lips."

Eagerly, Q complies. He's not very good—he doesn't know what he's doing—but he likes it, likes touching himself with one hand and clinging to James' arm with the other. "James," he whimpers, then, more urgently, " _ James _ —I-I don't know if I'm doing it right."

"You need to let go. Listen to your body, Q. Let it tell you what it needs. You're going to have an orgasm if it bloody kills me." He grins as he says he last part and adjusts his angle. Now he's only hitting Q's prostate and he's slamming into it harder with every thrust.

Q lets his head fall back, eyes glazing over, as he takes and strokes and gets into a good rhythm and just lets himself  _ feel _ .

"Come on, come for me." James knocks Q's hand away and takes over stroking as fast as he can, twisting his hand as he does. "Let go. Come for me. Scream my name. Come Q  _ now _ ."

"JAMES—!"

And just as he hits an almost impossible peak, just as he comes so hard he can't breathe for a beautiful, electric moment, he feels a strange tingling on his back.

Q tightens so sharply around James that the blond swears and comes, pouring into his lover and groaning as he sees stars. His cock aches as it begins to go soft and he helps unfold Q. 

James frowns as he looks at Q's face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes... yes... I'm fine," Q gasps, slowly falling from that high. His eyebrows draw together in puzzlement, but then they relax again and he smiles at James. "I would... like to try that again... soon," he pants.

James kisses him, licking into his mouth and chuckling. "I will happily shag you all night... Did it work?"

"I don't know... I think I felt something." Q hesitates, then squirms over on his stomach. "Can you see anything?”

James slips out of Q as he moves, and when he sees the boffin's back he goes completely still. 

"It looks like you've been branded," he says, his voice unnaturally even.

Q blinks and cranes his neck to look up at James. His face is calm and blank, but his eyes...

"Branded?" Q reaches over his shoulder, and searches until he finds the edge of a long, gnarled scar. It feels old, almost as old as James'.  And it hadn't hurt. "Oh. I guess Falling doesn't hurt after--"

Then the pain hits.

Q nearly bites his tongue off, he clamps down on his scream so hard. It's worse than he'd ever imagined. It’s exactly like when they branded him the first time, only times a thousand.

"Q? Q! Talk to me, Q!"

It passes, suddenly, all at once, and he collapses bonelessly, panting as if he'd been running for hours. Now there's nothing but the faint humming aftershock of his first orgasm.

"Okay," he says finally, between breaths. "Okay. I'm okay now. That was—very sudden. I'm okay now."

"Jesus you're covered in a cold sweat. Shower, come on."

James scoops Q up and carried him to the bathroom, turning on the water and setting Q gently down under the spray. "Fuck, it really does look like you've been branded just on either side of your spine."

"What's it shaped like?" Q asks, turning his face up to the water. Slowly, everything is falling away, leaving him feeling old and aching and just a little bit sad that it had to end. The sex, not the pain.

"Like wings." James steps into the shower and helps wash Q down, cleaning him up thoroughly and even wiping off the cum leaking from his arse. 

"How do you feel?" It's almost perfunctory, this. He's making sure Q is still fine, that he's whole and not in too much pain and God James is gonna need a drink after this just for his nerves. 

Q Fell. He Fell for James. He loves James, James Bond who hasn't loved since Vesper broke his heart and taught him trust was for the weak.

"How poetic," Q murmurs, letting James take control of this situation as well. "They took my wings, then gave them back. I'm fine, honest." Then he manages a smile. "I'll feel even better if you kiss me, though."

James grins now and pulls Q into a kiss. He holds the man close under the spray from the shower head until neither one of them can breathe. "Do they hurt?"

"No." And, strangely enough, they don't. After that first burst of horrible pain, they just feel... "A little stiff, but I assume that's just the scarring.”

"Hmmmm. You'll need to do some exercises later to stretch and improve your mobility. I have to admit, there's a certain elegance to them."

"That's good." Q leans against James and kisses his neck, beginning to attempt some of the lovely things James had done to him earlier.

"We should get out of the shower and go back to bed."

"Why? I read that showers are good places to be with a partner."

Bond's smirk turns predatory. "Oh did you now?"

Q nods and pretends he's not getting excited all over again. "I've been reading up," he admits, blushing faintly. "And some of my sources said that the shower can be a great place to... have fun."

"Well, I will have to dig out my non-skid mat because as much as I want to fuck you against the wall, I don't fancy either one of us with a concussion as a result. But perhaps..." He reaches down to touch and stroke Q's cock. "You're so lovely and long."

Q gulps as he feels himself get hard again. Now he knows what the pressure and heat mean, and his heart beats faster in anticipation.

"You're no longer a virgin, Q. I've been inside you, I'm the  _ only _ person who's  _ ever _ been inside you. And there's part of me who wants to keep it that way."

"Well, all of me wants that to be the case as well," Q answers readily, though his voice shakes and his breath is coming short again. He really does want that. He wants to be James', completely, fully, forever. That's why he Fell for him, isn't it? Because he fell in love first.

James moves closer so he can take both their cocks in hand and stroke them together, moaning into the crook of Q's neck. "Good. Because I'm never fucking letting you go."

Q wraps his arms around James' shoulders and hangs on tight, biting his lip, and then biting James' shoulder, letting out little whines and whimpers. Oh yes, oh  _ yes _ ...

"I'll teach you everything I know. Well. Maybe not everything. I like hearing you."

"Everything?" Q pants, delighted. Everything... he could give back so much if he knew everything. And if James likes hearing him... he moans a little, and then a little louder, smiling as James growls.

"Little noises all for me. Maybe the next time I have to seduce for work I'll keep you in my ear and let you describe what you'd want."

The thought of James seducing anyone else makes Q sad, but the friction of James' hand and cock and the warmth of the shower water and taste of James' skin is more than enough to stave it off. He's getting close again—so soon, and he's already so close—

"I'll just want everything," he warns James. "I'll want this, and I'll want you to fuck me, and I'll want your fingers, and—oh god I want it all  _ right now _ too."

"Just my hand for now, so we can have enough time to eat and recover. Then I'm fucking you again, Q."

James kisses the former angel as hard as he can, his hand moving quickly over their cocks.

Q is shivering, knees weak, arms tightening around James; his eyes go unfocused and he whimpers, and then yelps as, quite suddenly, he comes with no warning.

James growls and bites his shoulder as he follows, milking both of their cocks until they can barely stand.

Q doesn't want to let go. He doesn't want to do anything. He wants to stay in James' shower with him until the hot water runs out, and then he wants to go to sleep. But he can't. Not today. So he kisses James tentatively.

James kisses back lazily, washing his hand off and their bodies before shutting the water off. "Come on. Dry off. Clothing is officially optional.”

Q considers asking for underpants, but really, there is no need for modesty. So he steps out with James, claims a towel, and begins to dry his new lover briskly.

"I like your enthusiasm."

Q blushes, but does not stop until every drop of water has been wiped away. Then he grabs a new towel and hands it to James, even those he's mostly air-dried by now.

James finishes making sure Q is fully dry, finishing with the lad's hair. "Good as new."

Q automatically tries to tame the wild waves with both hands, but it's no use. So he sighs and looks around for a brush. None presents itself.

"Have you got a hairbrush?" he asks, absently stepping forward and leaning against James.

"I don't, no. Just a comb. We'll have to get one you can keep here." Bond uses his fingers as a substitute, gently combing through as many tangles as he can find.

Q wraps his arms around James again and relaxes against him, already in love with the feeling of James' hand through his hair. It feels... safe.

"Now. Food. You're too skinny when I can feel every vertebrae in your spine." He kisses Q and leads him back out to the kitchen. "What would you like?

Q does not pout. He has too much dignity for that. "Anything's fine. I've got--well, I guess I don't really have a steel stomach anymore. I'm not sensitive, at least."

"Probably no allergies... And I can't cook anything other than breakfast. What time is it?"

"Seven hours," Q answers. "So somewhere around midnight."

"So most places are closed. Well we can do eggs."

"Eggs would be nice."

James got out the eggs and the bread. "Put the toast on while I fix these."

Q complies, feeling strangely achy, but in a good way. There is an interesting domesticity in this, wandering the kitchen making a midnight breakfast together. Q likes it immensely.

James fries up the eggs, instructing Q to butter the toast while it's still warm.

Q rolls his eyes. "I know how to make toast, James," he sighs, buttering six slices of toast, because he  _ is _ quite hungry.

Bond chuckled and serves up the eggs. "Just checking."

Q hums, then, when he brings the plate to the table, he pounces and hugs James tight, enjoying the electric zing of skin-to-skin contact.

James catches him with ease, laughing at Q's exuberance. "You really like touch, don't you."

"Mm-hm." Q rubs his nose against Bond's shoulder and kisses his neck. His own still has marks and bruises on it. "You're very huggable when you don't have a weapon."

"When I'm unarmed? Q, I'm a human weapon."

"Yes, but you're  _ my _ weapon. So you're safe." He's not making much sense to himself, but he hopes he is to James.

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Good. Let's eat."

James sits down and pulls Q into his lap before eating.

Q finds himself stealing from James' plate, mostly because it's closest, but also because... because... he can't think of a good reason. That makes him stop.

"You've stopped eating. You're thinking too hard again. What is it?"

Q leans his head on James' shoulder to avoid his eyes. "I should stop eating your food," he mumbles. "I'm sorry." He tries to stand, but James won't let him.

“Q. I'm happy to share. Besides, if it means you eat more, I don't mind." He nuzzles Q with a smile and kisses his neck. "It's cute."

Q grumbles, but, after a moment, grabs the last triangle of toast on James' plate and scarfs it down.

"I'm more than happy to make extra and let you eat off my plate."

"Yes, but—" Q sighs, realizing that he has no arguments. "Oh, alright. Thank you."

"You have a lot to learn about being human. And in a relationship. If you don't want to ask me I'm sure Eve will help.”

"She already has." Q blushes, remembering that conversation. "I... I think... I might ask her."

"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about, Q. Nothing at all."

"Says you," Q replies petulantly, and bites James' ear. "What are we doing next that's fun?"

"Wait, what do you mean 'says me'? What are you embarrassed about?"

"Everything!" Maybe Q is still a little drunk, because it bursts out with a bit more feeling than he intends. "I just—I'm not—it's all just so new and strange and it's like you said, I'm not used to it. And we were never encouraged to ask questions or—" There, he stops himself, and looks away, flushing fiercely.

James just hugs him closer, kissing and mouthing at his neck. "Come back to bed with me. We can do... This, later."

Q nods and stands, pulling James to his feet. "I lo—I care for you very much."

"I know you do. I feel the same way."

"That's good. I'd be very disappointed if you didn't." Q kisses him lightly and smiles.

James grins and scoops Q up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him to the bed.

"Damn it, James!" Q kicks a little, but also laughs, slightly breathless. "Are you going to do this every time?"

"Mayyyyyybe."

"You're insufferable." He means to sound caustic, but he just sounds affectionate. He laughs again as James tosses him on the bed.

"It's so much easier to just carry you where I want you." Bond crawls up the bed to kiss Q deeply, that wicked light still shining in his eyes.

"Yes, and it's not degrading at  _ all _ ," Q retorts sarcastically, but he's still smiling and now breathless from the kiss.

"What, and deny me a chance to use all these muscles?"

Q trails his fingertips up James' arms, across his shoulders, and down his back, counting scars as he kisses James' neck. "Well... I do like them," he murmurs. "I suppose it'd be a shame to waste them."

"Go on. Explore my body this time."

With such explicit consent, Q nods and begins eagerly.

One hand slides slowly up James' spine to clench on his hair. The other skims over his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing the spot between them before smoothing downwards, stopping just short of his hips. Now Q's other hand joins its sibling, one on either side of James. Q slides his hands up his lover's sides, noting with faint envy how smooth muscle covers James' ribs.

He continues like that, stroking up and down James's torso, tracing every muscle with reverence, his mouth making little patches on James' neck, throat, and shoulders. When he gathers the courage, he reaches down between them and traces the lines of James' hipbones, one hand wrapping around James' cock.

Bond watches Q the whole time, letting him explore. He groans softly when Q finally touches him. "It's good... Sensitive. Now you-oh fuck just like that."

Q watches in fascination as it stiffens, just going on instinct and what James had done in the shower. "Is this good?"

"Yeah... Grip a little firmer, and stroke.... Ffffffuck, and twist your hand a little oh  _ fuck _ just like that Q."

Q follows these instructions carefully, enjoying the heat in his palm and the look on James' face, pleased and impatient. Perhaps he should stop looking at his face and pay attention to this dick in his fist, but he wants to see James' expression more.

"Fuck, that's fucking good Q." James is rocking into the hand too, thrusting slowly and just enjoying the feel of it, how close they are.

Q kisses James' collarbone gently. He enjoys it too, and he especially enjoys the pink and crimson flush to James' aura, bathing Q in warmth.

"I would have Fallen for you. Had the roles been reversed."

Q's already quite flushed, but he blushes a little more and smiles, gazing deep into James' eyes as he strokes a little faster. "That makes me feel better," he replies in all honesty, and kisses James again.

James kisses back, slipping his tongue into Q's mouth because he already knows he'll never get tired of this. "Now. Do you want me to-to come in your hand? Or inside you again?"

"In me, please," Q mumbles. "But—I want to be on top this time."

James's grin is hungry. "Then we better roll over."

"Gladly." Q lets go of James' cock and pushes him over, scrambling up on top of him, then hesitates. "Do... do we need more lubricant?"

"Yep. Top drawer in the night stand. Get me nice and slick first."

"Okay."

Q finds the bottle, squeezes out what he hopes is the right amount, and starts in on James' dick, automatically settling into the same stroking movements--but he doesn't want James to come  _ now _ , he wants him to come  _ later _ , so when he's good and slippery he takes a deep breath and sinks down onto James.

Bond's hands go to Q's hips, fingers digging in as the lad's tight heat closes around him. " _ Fuck _ ," he groans, staring up at Q. "Bugger all I think I like this view even better."

Q smiles, delighted, and starts making small, experimental movements. "I know I do," he hums, bracing his hands on either side of James.

"Go on. Ride my cock, Q."

So Q does.

He likes this better. He likes being on top, and still having James in him deep. He likes being the one to set the pace; slow, making James groan and his hands tighten on Q's hips, then fast, making him gasp, then slow again.

"You're a bloody natural at this. And a cock tease. Oh  _ fuck _ yes!"

James's head falls back against the pillow as he thrusts up to meet Q. His fingers are digging into the lad's hips, bound to bruise at this point.

"But I like hearing you," Q says innocently—or, it would sound innocent if he weren't so out of breath. He puts his hands over James', rolls his hips, bites his lip to hold in a groan of his own. He's pretty damn close himself, so he decides to just go for it, as hard and fast as he can.

"Oh fuck yes, just like that, oh god Q let me hear you too, love!"

Q's head has tipped back and he lets himself give a loud groan, followed by a series of progressively louder moans—mostly for James' benefit, since Q had teased him so much earlier.

"Oh yeah, fuck Q, god you're tight." James snaps his hips up and makes his lover cry out. "Oh yeah, fucking take my cock."

Q wants to tell him to be quiet, let him concentrate, but he's also off his head and desperate to come, so he doesn't really mind. He just focuses on taking James as eagerly as he can.

"Stroke yourself. Come on. Come on my cock. Fuck, Q, I want to see you come."

Q's hand is still slippery from applying perhaps too much lube, so the friction isn't quite to his liking; but he's horny and hungry and soon enough he's half-bent over gasping for breath, so close, so close—

James surges up to kiss him, snapping up several times to slam into Q's prostate and tipping them both over the edge.

Q mewls this time when he comes, because his mouth is still pressed against James'. He doesn't think he'll ever not be surprised by the feeling of James coming inside him, but it's a good surprise. Pleasant.

Bond coaxes Q through his orgasm until they both collapse to the bed in a sweaty, sticky pile. 

"Fuck... Oh fuck Q..."

"Good, then?" Q somehow finds the breath to ask.

"Oh yes. Definitely good. Especially since we're starting you on vanilla sex." He nuzzles Q, mouthing at his neck and licking up to his ear.

Q smiles and hums happily, pressing a little closer, rubbing his fingers in circles on James' arm. "Nap time," he murmurs.

"Nap time," James agrees, holding Q close until they both fall asleep.


	4. We Loved

**6 months later**

Violet steps out of the lift and into the hustle and bustle of Q branch and is nearly bowled over by a boffin carrying a huge stack of books. She stares around at all the activity and feels almost completely overwhelmed. 

She's on her first day on this assignment, assigned to MI6 by the Higher Angels. After Q's Fall, heaven had stayed away until they were sure he wouldn't be a problem. Now she's here to watch and report and protect what she can. And she isn't sure it's what she wants. 

Tucking her mouse brown hair behind her ear, she walks into the room, looking for Q.

He's overwhelmed, too. Three missions have gone awry, one of them being James'. He can't handle James, though, because 008 is at higher risk. So he raps out orders at lightning speed, ignoring the world around him in favor of getting the agent out safely.

The angel approaches slowly once she sees the Quartermaster standing at the big monitors in the middle of Q-branch as he fights to protect his agent. As soon as she sees exactly how much danger the person is in, Violet shrinks back and does her best to be invisible and just let Q work.

There's an extremely bright aura behind him and to one side, but Q doesn't turn around, fingers flying over the keyboards and eyes flicking from screen to screen. Finally, 008 is safe, and Q breathes a silent sigh of relief before turning just enough to look over his shoulder, curious now.

There's an angel behind him. A Mechanica. Exactly what they need. Q brightens considerably and takes off his headset to turn and fully face her.

"You must be our new mechanic!" he greets her. "Violet, isn't it? They didn't tell me you were an angel."

"I-I-I-yes sir," she stammers, shaking his hand. "And I am. An angel that is. You're very busy here."

It's been six months and Q still isn't used to not having that sparking sensation when he comes in contact with another angel. "Yes, yes we are." He studies her, calculating. She looks mousy, but he's sure she's solid as iron underneath. Most angels are. And even though she stutters, at least she looks him in the eye. She will do well here.

Q smiles. "I'd take you to see the workshops myself, but, as you pointed out, I'm busy. Magenta will show you. But if you have any questions, it doesn't matter what kind they are, I hope you'll come to me." He leaves the offer open, does not say that he knows she wants to ask him many things, not all necessarily to do with the work. It's all over her face and aura.

"Thank you..." Is all she manages to say before Magenta is right by her side and leading the way to workshops. The woman chatters away incessantly and Violet just tunes her out. 

Everything here is just so much...  _ more _ than it is in Heaven. And it isn't that she longs for the cloudy cities again, but it all seems familiar to her as well. 

Once things calm down a few hours later, Violet ventures up to know on Q's door. "Do-do you have a m-minute?"

Q is play-fighting with Secret, who doesn't even use his claws anymore, and smiles up at Violet. "Yes, of course. I'm waiting for some code to compile." And for James to report back from medical. But that will take a while, since James is stubborn and the medical staff are stubborner. "Have a seat, Violet."

Violet perches on the edge of a chair, watching Q and the cat. "What's his name?" She asks softly. The Quartermaster isn't what she had expected at all. He's... Kind, is the word she's looking for. The way they speak about in heaven makes him sound like a horrible, sinful man who chose mortality and sin over the blessings of heaven.

"Secret," Q answers, and grabs him up before he thrashes Q's mug (thankfully empty) off the desk. Secret meows indignantly, then notices Violet and immediately stops. Q grins and sets Secret down on the floor. The cat saunters around the desk, eyes Violet, and jumps into her lap, purring.

"You've been adopted, now. Welcome to Q-branch."

"I-I-I don't... Hello?" She tentatively pets the cat, delighted when he snuggles closer and purrs louder. 

"He's so soft. And sweet. He's yours?"

"Technically he's the Q-branch mascot, but he prefers to think of us all as his servants." Q wonders if it's time to push her about why she's come here, but ultimately decides against it. Let her choose her time.

"Are all cats like that? Imperious? Like the..." She almost says High Angels, but stops herself before she can. 

"They've assigned me here. I'm supposed to keep an eye on things... Maybe they think I can pull you back into the fold. I'm not sure."

Q doesn't smile. But neither does he frown. He keeps what he hopes is a pleasant expression as he answers, "Not all cats, but most. I'm sorry, Violet, I've no doubt that you're very capable and will probably fit in just fine in time, but you're never going to be able to put me under their thumb again. We'll try not to cock things up for you." He smiles now, inviting her to relax a little, not sure that it'll work.

"Why do you not want to return? Is human life really that good?"

Q's smile softens. "Mine is," he answers quietly.

Violet regards him curiously. "You're happy... Your aura is all red and pink and sparkling gold." She looks at her own with a frown. "Mine is all grey."

"Mine was too. It means you're uncertain. Tea?"

"All right. Yes, please. What is it you love about this place?"

Q gets up and finds a clean second mug for Violet, thinking his answer through carefully as he sets the kettle on to boil.

"The work, for one," he begins. "I was able to do it before I Fell, of course, but it feels... more fulfilling, knowing that I'm not being watched. For another, when you're Fallen, people talk to you. They tell you all kinds of strange things, because they know you answer to no one higher than your human boss, and humans always keep secrets from each other. And there's James." He can feel his aura sparking gold-pink again, as he smiles goofily at nothing.

"You have a funny look on your face when you say his name. That's your lover, right? He's the reason you Fell? Heaven doesn't like him either."

Q chuckles. "No, I suppose they wouldn't, would they? Yes. He's my fiancé now, actually. We're getting married next month." He shows Violet the silver band on his left ring finger. "He's the reason I do most things that aren't work-related."

"Two men getting married?" It's like her head is aching with all of this. It goes against everything they teach, everything they drilled into her mind, but she  _ knows _ it's fine. That it's not a sin. 

"I-I have... Conflicting beliefs in my head and it  _ hurts _ ."

Q hurries to bring her the tea, and puts his hand over her forehead, probing gently at her mental walls, not attempting to breach, simply observing. He couldn't breach them if he tried.

"I thought it was that," he sighs, taking his hand away. "You're new. You didn't die that long ago and your wings are still not quite broken in. And you're probably still reconciling. They probably should have sent a more contro—a more seasoned angel. Drink your tea and don't think too hard about it, you'll make your headache worse." With a brush of his fingertips, he calms the physical pain, but there's nothing he can do for the mental reconciliations.

Violet obeys, drinking her tea slowly and breathing to try and dispel the headache. "I felt happy for your engagement and then it was like getting mentally slammed for it because you're both men. Which is so arbitrary."

Q cracks a tiny smile. "They aren't very keen on the idea of marriage between anyone other than men and women," he answers wryly. "It took me two months to say yes. It's still the most patient he's ever been."

"Wow... You really do love him."

"Yes," Q replies softly. "More than anything, actually."

"Congratulations. That's really amazing, Q."

He chuckles. "Not so amazing as you might think. It's actually quite common, on Earth. But thank you."

"But you have someone you love. There's a strong bond between you. To me, that's amazing."

Q blushes faintly and takes a sip of tea. Still not as good as James'. "Well, I'm sure you'll find a love of your own soon. It's..." Q's eyes go unfocused and thoughtful. "It's beautiful.  It's butterflies in your stomach when you look at them. It's fire when you touch. It's feeling like there's nothing and no one else that matters. And it's the best feeling possible. That's what I hope for you."

Violet flushes and hides behind her teacup at his words, and no sooner had she taken a drink than a large, muscular blond man strides into the office, pulling Q into his arms and kissing him. 

"Three weeks apart is too damn long," Bond murmurs against Q's mouth.

"I agree," Q whispers, then wraps his arms around James' shoulder and kisses back. Finally he pulls away and introduces formally, "James, this is our new mechanic, Violet. Violet, this is the fiend we call James Bond, or 007 when he's being particularly horrendous."

Violet turns bright pink when James fixes her with his most charming smile. "G-Good to m-meet you, 007."

"Likewise, Miss Violet." James kisses her hand and grins, wincing when Q thumps him in the shoulder. "What was that for?"

"For frightening a very important person," Q scolds, then smirks. "And flirting with someone other than me."

James turns back to Q with a very heated expression. "I'll be flirting with you plenty tonight, fiancé," he purrs, kissing Q one more time before heading out. 

Violet watches him go and all but collapses back in her chair. "He's... Wow... No wonder you Fell. You'd have to have a heart of stone not to go for someone like him."

Q chuckles and resists the urge to touch his mouth. Christ, it's been too long. "He tends to have that effect on people. Which is why you should tell me if he starts getting too much, with you or anyone else, so I can slap some sense into him." Or kiss him. That tends to work better. But Q keeps that in reserve.

His aura is starting to turn red. He blushes and turns away to sit behind his desk. "Right. Do you have any more questions?”

"Just... What do you expect me to do here? You have plenty of good mechanics and designers. I-I don't see how I can make a difference."

"We're understaffed. No one will admit it, but we are. I need to pull some people from your area to spread them around. Also I want you to be my second-in-command." He smiles at her horror. "Who else can I trust, since my last R turned out to be a mole? And you can learn enough to choose for yourself whether I'm good or bad. Also, your skills are far superior to anyone else's. You're a Mechanica."

"You're a Tech... You really want me as your right hand? I-I don't know what to say... Thank you, Q."

"Don't thank me yet. You'll probably hate me before the end of your first day. But I'm hoping you'll enjoy your time with us."

"Thank you, Q." Violet places her empty mug on his desk and excuses herself, slipping through the halls and back down to R and D.

Q smiles again. "Welcome to Q-branch," he repeats softly to her retreating back.

~~~\0/~~~

"I missed you," Q murmurs, late at night, in the flat they share with two lanky felines who somehow always get the door open and end up lying on their pillows.

James kisses a bare patch of skin on Q's shoulder, nuzzling him. "And I missed you too. You are far more pleasant to come home to than a bottle of Scotch.”

"I should hope so." Q doesn't need to point out that James mentions this at least once every time he comes home. It's something James feels the need to say and Q respects that. "Now say that you love me so we can sleep."

Bond grins and pulls Q closer in his arms. "I love you very much, my Q."

"I love you more, James." And before they can get into an argument, Q ducks his head under James' chin and pretends to fall asleep.

Bond grins and presses a kiss to the top of Q's head. "Love you most," he whispers before closing his eyes. It's easy now, unwinding after missions when Q is in his arms. The nightmares don't come when his love is with him.

Elizabeth and Secret begin to purr.


End file.
